


ADRONITITS (II)

by curiosityanddreams



Series: ASUNDER [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/F, F/M, I promise you it will be just as shitty as the last, Multi, Runners, The Maze - Freeform, This is really confusing, don't come for me please I'm fragile, lol time for the next one, med-jack, what other tags should I use?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-05 11:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 54
Words: 103,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiosityanddreams/pseuds/curiosityanddreams
Summary: This is the last chapter of this book? I'll see you next in Sojourner!





	1. I could be helping

Leo 1

When the box opens, I notice it's another boy. My chest almost collapses in on itself. The relief washes over me in waves. Not another girl; I don't think I could handle that trouble. Everything seems to be running smoothly, for once, as far as I can tell. The boys laugh at his apparently "slintheaded" face.

He stares at the boys around us, blinking at first but then doe-eyed. Perhaps confused and lost describe him better than idiotic would. I've been told we can't tell him anything until tomorrow, which only makes my attempt at a smile more attempt than smile. First day in the Glade and he's already begun to lose his mind.

I wonder, prompted by the look on his face, if we have ever seen the sky before we get here.

Alby glances at me, before looking at the boy down in the Box-hole. Part of me wonders what the Glade would be like if us girls had never showed up. Would Alby and Newt be talking? As far as Dawn has told me, which is as far as Minho has told her, the two who were previously thick as thieves find themselves at odds. Newt had been lying to Alby for a long time.

Life here is hard and we make it harder.

I wonder which of Clint and Jeff would be here right now, staring at the boy, and which would be caring for Ben. Part of me wonders if Ben would have been so close to the Doors if we weren't here. Maybe he wouldn't have been stung. Is that good or bad? Who wouldn't know how despicable he was if Dawn wasn't here in the first place.

They pull the boy up, and the boys considering to snicker. I find myself staring at him, intently. Our eyes find each other, and he stares back. He furrows his brow, I can see him mouthing something to himself, but I can't Instead of focusing on me, his head spins until his eyes land on Dawn. Michelle didn't bother showing up, or if she did she left, so he only can find Ella, who stares at him intently across the circle.

Does she remember him? She made it seem like his arrival was a big deal, so maybe.

"Keep it up and your next break'll be sliced in two," Alby yells over the voice as they continue to poke at the kid.

I can see Ella making over to go closer to him, and I find myself ducking into the back of the crowd and running around to meet her halfway. My arms pull her away as she claws at my skin.

"Let me at him," her voice is commanding and confident in a way I've never heard it before. Thankfully she's smaller, and younger than me. Fifteen was my guess, right? I think both Dawn and I are seventeen and Michelle is sixteen, so at most fifteen for her, I think.

I only pull her down to the ground, and I find Zart has pulled away from the crowd to help me move her away. We've drawn the attention of the two kitchen boys Frankie and Joe, as well as Doug the builder, but no one else has bothered to glance our way.

There is a piercing scream, loud and violent. Ben's voice tears itself to shreds, breaking and cracking at its own sheer force. If the Grievers weren't done with him, they are certainly turning back now to finish what they started. The sound of his cries reminds me of the sound of the metal cage scratching against the concrete as the Box I was brought in move up. Just as loud, and somehow more agonizing.

Maybe Ben is a banshee.

"Can you handle her?" I grunt, moving Ella behind the Farmhouse.

Zart nods as she grunts. He has clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming, and I find myself thankful, running towards the room.

I leave the door ajar, dashing up the stairs and nearly slipping as I find my way into the room upstairs. I open the door moving in.

"It's another one of you shanks, no girl this time. What can I do?" I begin to tie up my hair, holding the elastic in my mouth as I do so. It seems to be falling everywhere and taking over, and I can't concentrate with it in my face.

Clint and Jeff are holding the boy down, pressing his shoulders firmly against the ground. Ben continues to scratch his arms against his skin, ripping it open until he begins to bleed.

Klunk.

The two are too distracted, so I run into the cabinet, looking for sedative. He can't simply keep clawing himself like this, and although he isn't losing enough blood to die, this isn't good. His skin is ghostly, and though his blood is red green veins pop out of his skin.

"You can't use sedative," Clint tells me.

Jeff tries to add on, but he is struggling to hold the boy down. "Tried. Tried it all. Gotta... just let... changing..."

There goes that. I duck down, looking deeper into the cabinet. I rip out bandages and cotton swaps and tape. I found the tape.

Moving in on him, I try to get a grip on his hand, and he simply leans forward. Ben grabs my hand, digging into it with his nails, and I find myself screaming as he digs his nails deep into my blistering skin. He leaps on to me, pushing me to the ground, until he is off of me.

Someone moves in the door, helping me up off the floor. Alby rips Ben off of me, moving him towards the bed even though he rips at him too. Newt leans down next to me, cradling me in his arms.

"You take care of her," Alby gestures to the boy's hands. "He scratches you, with those blisters, you'll shucking scream too."

Newt turns, grabbing the supplies I left spilt on the floor from when Ben tackled me. I reach down, grabbing a cleaner off the ground, dumping it on my hand. I feel myself biting down on my tongue, trying not to cry out in pain from the chemical's effects on my skin. I take the bandages from Newt, rapping them around my hand for myself.

"Looks like you didn't need my help," he is cut off by Ben's screams, and he runs over to help.

When I'm satisfied that my blood is contained, I look over at Ben. His lips are bruising purple, and his skin is erupting in welts. They bleed even more as his nails dig into his skin, and as he screams.

I am surprised I don't find it hard to separate Ben from the boy in front of me. This is far more than punishment for his actions, in a roundabout way. Experiencing this is terrible, and it is not difficult for me to help him. He needs my help after all and no matter his prior actions he doesn't deserve to die.

There is a boy staring in the doorway, the new one. Klunk.

"Greenie?" Alby is screaming behind me, and I find myself staring at the boy.

I move into him before Alby can continue yelling, gently pushing him out the door, I follow him into the hall, leaving the boys in there behind.

The new boy stares at me for a few seconds, and I'm not sure what to do. I've never had to ask someone for a name before, and I'm a bit too busy to start a conversation. Especially when I hear Ben walling again.

"It's alright," I am half-tempted to call him Greenie, but that isn't what he wants to hear right now. I can tell because I once was the boy. At least, maybe he has it a bit easier than I did. "We'll sort Ben out. Have before and will again."

"I just wanted answers," he seems flabbergasted, trailing his words left and right.

I nod, although I don't get it. When I got here, I just shucking didn't want to be killed by those shanks. So, I guess I nod as if I understand. "They won't tell us anything first day. Sorry you had to see that. He's really sick."

"I'm Thomas," the boy tells me, and I find myself nodding.

"Leo," I don't know if we should shake hands or something, especially since mine are so bloody, so instead I stand still.

Is this what all Greenies are like? Granted, I guess this shank, Thomas, is the first one I've met, but he seems so curious. At the same time, he seems so innocent. I doubt he remembers anything; maybe Clint was wrong. Ella might be going nuts.

Ben screams once more, and I know I need to keep helping. "You should go. Chuck's your guide?"

He nods, which I guess is a good thing. I've never had to deal with Chuck, but he came to me to apologize once. He thought it was his fault the bleach spilt. Since he claims he didn't screw it on right. He's a good kid, so at least I know Thomas is in decent hands.

I don't wait for his answer before walking in and closing the door behind me. They haven't managed to get Ben to calm down. Standing still, I wait for direction. They've gotten his arms tied to the bed with belts (Jeff's pants are hanging dangerously low as he hangs over Ben, but Clint's pants seem to be holding themselves up just fine).

Alby and Newt back away as I move in. The three of us Med-jacks set to work. Ben screams as I pour alcohol in his cuts. He screams when I don't too. I can feel tears starting to well in my eyes and I don't know why. Sadness shouldn't be overtaking me when I have a job to do. Ben is a bad guy too, but I find tears silently streaming down my face as I wipe his arm clean. Blood can't seem to stop pouring out.

I find myself getting pulled off by Newt as the two other Med-jacks bandage Ben's skin. His bloodshot eyes stare at me, begging me to help. I've never felt so powerless, and I've lived here for 29 days. The Glade has a way of stripping away one's power.

"How the shuck did he even get stung?" Alby asks.

The alarm had gone off when he was hurt. I was told to wait until the Greenie got up to see it was a girl before going to help. He's just freshly turned, and I've heard it only gets worse from here.

"We found him having just crawled into the Glade," Jeff begins, struggling to grab the guy. "If you hadn't been on the shuckin' toilet, you'd've noticed. I wouldn't go get him, since I could still see the shucking Griever rolling away. Didn't step foot in the Glade."

Jeff fails to mention we know this from the way the blood smeared from the cobblestone into the grass. Meaning, we can tell that Ben had to drag himself into the Glade. Apparently, he was close enough to get his leg sliced open. If he wasn't done running already, he's done now.

"The shuckin' Grievers never come in," Newt remarks, echoing all of our thoughts. "What was one bloody doing waitin' for a shank to mill on up?"

I have no idea, but it is then that I realize that Newt is still holding me.


	2. I could be sober

Dawn 2

The Keepers, as they always do, light their sticks and whip them into the pile of scraps in the center. People scream and cheer as the logs catch a flame, ripping into the night sky, and I find myself laughing into Frankie's shoulder next to me.

Now, I can finally drink for fun. Ben is intensely suffering and as a bonus I can party. My arm is looped around Frankie's as we drink together. The liquid burns down my throat. Finishing first, I begin to shout and Gladers join in with me, our cries echoing throughout the Glade. Masking over those of Ben's.

The Track-hoes have a band of buckets they bang against, since they've already been shucked since they got off work. Gally doesn't seem to mind though; this month he managed to grow more than usual and now there is a whole ton of his drink.

"Shut your shucking trap shank," Fry grabs my arm, shaking me from side to side. "You'll wake up the shucking Grievers."

Let them come, they don't scare me.

I turn around, searching for Leo. My eyes land on her, and I tear her away from her words with Jeff. Frankie, who is close behind me, hands me two glasses (one of which is his and one of which is knew) freshly filled with liquid. She tentatively takes it from my hands.

"You shucked already?" She has to yell over the crowd as she leans into me. Her face is so close to mine.

I shake my head back and forth, gesturing for her to drink. We down the glasses at the same time, and I am surprised how well she holds the amber liquid. She must've been one of the shanks who's been stealing it out from Gally's nose. Playfully, I shove her and she laughs.

"Dee, turn around," I spin at Frankie's words as he shoves a hand through the crowd. "The Greenbean is moving up on Michelle." At this he grabs me, pulling me away from Leo to get a better look.

It's true. Though the shank stands awkwardly in the corner, I watch as Jackson and Billy, those two shuck Baggers, egg on him to go talk to Michelle. I roll my eyes, but can't help the playful smile on my face. This should be fun.

The Greenie shuffles forward, unsure of her stare. He sits down next to her on the log. Michelle glances at him out of the corner of her eye, and the Greenie falls off the log. I'm glad I'm not the old one who laughs. He gets up, shrugging the dirt off his shoulders and glaring at the two Baggers.

"You'd think for Baggers you'd cause less trouble," I holler over, at the two. Billy is nice, from what I understand. He is the one who threw Jackson in the Slammer and demoted him for trying to get Michelle banished. Still, it seems he enjoys messing with people, and has forgiven Jackson in the long run.

"Baggers're creepy fellas," Minho's voice leans in next to me. He has a hand pressed up against me, just under the hem of my shirt.

"You tryna get caught Maze Boy?" It's so loud that I have to yell the words, but Frankie is suddenly wrapped up trying to talk the Greenie into going back to Michelle.

Minho shrugs. "What is it you said to me when Greenie you were up shuckin' ten feet in the air, hanging off the Walls?"

"I asked you about being around when I was in trouble," I tease. "You asked me why I was always shuckin' climbing things. Not vice versa shank."

"If you have such a perfect memory, tell me how we shuckin' got here," his tone is playful as he moves his hands around to the sides of my hips.

Frypan walks by us, sending me a wink back behind him. Minho slips his hands behind me, hoping no one else will see. For half a second, I hate that we must hide. I wonder if he does too. I imagine so, but since he is behind me I can't see his face.

I wish I had a smart thing to snap back. Minho beats me in all competitions based off little quips, although I try to come as a close second.

"You miss real music?" I ask, suddenly remembering that music once had lines and melody. Do I even remember songs?

He laughs, "you're really shucked, aren't ya? Should I worry?"

No, this isn't like last night. Then, I couldn't tell up from down. I don't even remember what I said, but I remember drinking because Alby wasn't going to punish Ben. Now, none of that matters. Ben's as good as dead, and he'll suffer for a few shucking days now.

He'll suffer like I did; indefinitely.

"I'm celebrating," I tell him, moving away. I back up, until I stumble into a boy behind me.

"Watch yer feet shank," I turn around before I realise who it is behind me. "Lookie here at the Greenbean. You're shucking a startled shank, aren't you boy? Kinda cute actually."

The boy just stares at me, holding me up with an arm gently. Minho moves in, taking me out of Thomas's hands. "Sorry Greenie. She's way more a lightweight than she thinks. Gets shucked off half a glass, and I'm sure she's seen the bottom of a few by now."

"Better shucked then jacked," I take a few steps away, grabbing a glass off the bench a few meters off. At some point I lost my glass, but more have been filled since. Minho has followed close behind me, and the Greenie even came along too. I hand them a glass each, and when I take mine, I turn around to face them.

"To Ben," I raise my glass in the air, winking at Minho.

He glances at the Greenie's shucking startled face, as if trying to see if he has figured out I'm not praying for the shank going through the Changing. When the Greenbean tentatively raises the glass, Minho winks back, lifting it up. I'm quick to down the liquid. Minho follows suit, gulping close behind, where the Greenie is slow as shuck.

I almost laugh at the poor shank when he doesn't down the whole thing. "You'll get there shank."

Minho shrugs, quickly apologizing to the poor fella before steering me away. "You good Dee?"

I notice how far he has brought us from the party. It rages on behind us, but he stands still. There is a smile on his face, a playful one, but I can see him trying to hide the worry in his eyes.

"Now I am," it's easier to move on now that Ben is punished. For a while it was hard. Not just because I could feel his hands trying to grip my body, but because no one knew. The gag order burned my mouth. The silence, and watching him get to pretend he is fine.

Putting a few weeks behind me has helped me to heal. I know it was his shucking fault, and that he has been punished. No use wondering what could've happened now. Only use exploring all the possible futures I have.

"Serious?" He asks.

I sit down in the grass. It's soft, and even in the dim lighting, green. Since my heads been so high for so long, I never noticed the Earth beneath me. It's firmness, and its ability to push back on me. It is soft and kind. The Earth is mine, and so are the stars.

Minho is here for me, and so are the others. Leo, Newt, arguably Michelle; I guess they all care in some way or another.

Now that the pain is out of the way, I can see how great the next month will be as easily as I can see Minho.

"Serious," I affirm.

"Y'all really doing this now?" Alby crosses his arms.

Since when did he walk up? No one else at the bonfire has seen us, or maybe they have but they paid no mind. Alby has a radar for me.

"Ah shove off it shank," Minho rolls his eyes, looking back to the boy. "You've already given us your blessing, Pope Alby."

Alby rolls his eyes back, thumping his foot off the ground. "None of your shenanigans in public. Good that?"

"Geez, you'd think you'd change your name to Captain Alby instead of Gally adopting the nickname suddenly," I overheard Chuck earlier klunking all over Gally for using such a stupid phrase.

Minho's hand goes under, and I give him a high-five. This only causes Alby's eyes to roll harder and longer.

"I had enough of Minho to deal with on one hand, I don't need you as well getting all up in my klunk."

"See, Plumber Alby doesn't have the same ring to it," it's my turn to high-five Minho now. I don't know if this is actually funny, or if we are both really shucked.

Alby sticks a finger out at the two of us, one which scolds. "You're the only shank I know who is cocky enough to somehow shack himself, Minho."

"We're only this similar when I'm shucked," I remark.

Minho nods. "She's way worse than me sober."

I roll my eyes at the comment, playfully shoving him. There is a smile on my cheeks though, and this only makes me realize I love him more than I possibly could've imagined.

"I really can't handle this," Alby remarks, rolling his eyes. "But just know, if anyone else catches you, I'm throwing you both in the Slammer. Good that?"

He's so full of it.

"Yeah slim it."


	3. I could be vulnerable

Michelle 3:

That new Greenie is shucking ugly, and I don't know whether or not I want to punch him or those shuck Baggers more.

"I don't like him," Gally mutters beside me.

It's late, and though it's technically not lights out, everyone's fast asleep. I saw Minho and Dawn sneak off to his bedroom, with that big fat Cook laughing after them. I thought they might play it safe, but of course I was wrong. There are no consequences for those Alby likes.

"Alby or Dave?" I peer over at Gally out of the corner of my eye. I don't get too comfortable though.

"I meant the Greenie," he hisses through his teeth, before glancing over at me. "Them as well though."

I didn't talk to either of them today. Dave tried, but we didn't speak. We haven't spoken since that night. Maybe I've been avoiding him, although I would never admit to that. He's going to want to talk, and to feel.

I'm only here to feel with my hands. Fists that punch and grip. Nails that scratch against backs, and lips that beg and plead. Any sort of feeling involving my brain is something I am trying to avoid. Dave is a talker, and he's going to want to talk about what happened.

"He was going to banish me," I choose to ignore Dave. "No backbone."

Gally rolls his eyes, throwing a stick beside him into the fire. The bone cracks and cackles into the night once it hits the flames. Sometimes I feel like the stick and sometimes the fire. Is it possible to be both?

Fire burns because it eats away at kindling, and kindling dies to feed a fire. All the time I seem to be eating at myself in a never ending painful cycle.

"Well, he didn't." I wait for Gally to tell me he helped call Alby off, but he doesn't. Leo told me that Gally helped me.

Dave held Ben back, but Alby saw me free. Besides, I handled Ben by myself anyway. Half of me wants to tell Dawn, but the other half knows I won't. Gally doesn't take any of the credit for how he helped me, even though I wait for him to do so.

"Besides," Gally continues, "Alby's the least of our problems with that Greenie here."

I don't really care about the Greenie and his ugly shuck face. I already know and talk to enough people. There are what now, six? Seven? That's too many people for me to know. I was perfectly content to only talk to Alby and Dave anyway.

"Oh slim it," I mutter it, and Gally only glares at me.

Gally shakes his head, curling his fists in on themselves. "You don't know what I saw."

I've seen the shank too, and he's not much more than a shank.

"You gonna beat him like you did Dave?" I ask, more curious than actually caring. "We already have to rebuild the structure tomorrow."

"Not we," he corrects, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alby pulled you to the Slicers, didn't he?"

I shrug. Like yes, but I know the Keeper and I doubt I'll actually work for him. A couple weeks ago, I broke into his place and started going at the meat with a knife, and let me tell you the Keeper isn't that fond of me. He found me tonight, and told me not to step a shuckin' foot into his meat locker. Believe me, I'd rather die than head in their anyway.

"I'll die before I'm a Slicer," I mutter.

"Winston will probably send you back to me," Gally looks at his feet

"Alby won't make me go back with Ben gone," I remark, although I'm not sure. Maybe Alby will, since I get the feeling he saw more than he let on happen between Gally and me.

Although, I don't even know what is happening between us. He likes me, that much I can tell, and so does Dave. However, I don't know how much of their affection for me is based off of me and trying to steal me from the other. I don't really want either of them to win, although maybe I do and I just won't accept it.

I get the feeling they are fighting more over Nick than me. No one has told me what happened to him.

"What happened with Ben, anyway?" It's not commanding, but it's not probative. It's forceful, but there is room for me not to answer. If I so wanted, I could just sit in silence, and not tell him anything. Gally, however, knows how to extract what he wants to know just like me. This is a trade.

"Tried to get handsy with Dawn, so I beat him up." Truth and lies stirred together. I can't tell what is what anymore. He tried to get handsy with Dawn. I hit him. He tried to get handsy with me. Minho hit him. All are truths, but only some fit together to make the story as I knew it that day when he came at me, and when I beat him. "Who's Nick?"

Gally straightens himself up, leaning forward. From my spot behind him, half his face is hidden in shadow. He glances back at me, to look me in the eyes. His mouth does not twitch, and his features remain sharp and pointed.

"He had Alby's job, before that shank took over." Gally begins, although he looks unhappy about it. "He died while we were building some klunk."

This is the part where I expect him to throw Dave under, like Dave does him, but he doesn't. Dave told me Gally was selfish and awful outside of me, and I imagine it has to do with Nick. Why isn't he ripping into Dave? Why won't Gally boast about himself?

Maybe it's because Dave cares and Gally doesn't. I don't dislike either of them. It's just been different after that night with Dave.

That night with Dave.

I don't know if I could have nights like that with Gally, or nights where I want that. Underlying the lust there was an apology. There was need and there was begging. Gally and I, we are two dimensional creatures. I choose to forget I can apologize.

Gally and I would be skin on skin. Need in a way different than Dave and myself. No underlying message.

"Nick tried," Gally looks away from me, and into the pits of the fire. "Alby took over maybe two weeks before you got here, it's why most of the Gladers don't respect him for nothing. He'll never be like Nick."

There is no use thinking about things that have already happened. Storylines over and done with. There is no use in me thinking about a different Glade, with a leader who lead instead of dominated and struggled. There is no use pitying the boy who died in some most likely painful building accident.

I think about Gally though, and Dave and Alby, the boys he left behind.

"Klunk's shucked now," he gets up, moving away from the fire. His feet move off behind him, and I find myself standing up. I do not know what it is to lose, but I know what it is to be alone.

I tried to be a better person to spite Dave, and it lingers. I feel for Gally, but also for Dave. Klunk, do I like one of them? Do I like both of them? They are like parallel lines, moving in the same direction but never touching. They are the same item in different packaging.

"Don't go," I can't believe it comes out my mouth. I'm becoming such a wuss, all because of Dave. He did this to me. Gave me feelings for not just him, but for Dawn and Leo and Alby and Gally. No one has gone untouched, all because of his actions.

Gally turns around to see me.

I can hear us breathing.

This time, it is my turn to run. I do, I run away from him. From this feeling burning in my stomach. Only a few days ago did I say I was better than both of them, but now I realize that both Dave and Gally matter so much to me.

I'm not good enough for Dave though. Running from my problems, avoiding apologizing, actually killing someone; Dave deserves much better than me. He deserves an actual good person, and I've never met someone who deserves him yet.

Gally though, I can't admit I like him. Not just because it's embarrassing, but because I don't like people. I don't feel. I am hard and stone, and why am I suddenly mush?

I only stop moving when I am behind the Homestead. I lean into the side of the wall, trying to catch my breath.

"Why are you running?" Gally rounds the corner, looking at me. "You're the one who called me back."

I know, klunk, I am not good at this. Gally looks mostly confused, but his lips are parted slightly.

"I killed Ben," I rather him know that then know I have feelings for him. "I pushed him into the Maze."

Gally licks his upper lip. I can feel his breath on my cheeks. He adjusts his footing on the ground, before leaning down and closer to me. "The Changing doesn't kill you, Michelle. I went through it when I was in the Maze. It shuckin' sucks, but it doesn't kill you. It's how I know the Greenie."

I guess that's all I have to say.

"Besides, Ben shucking deserved it, and it's not your fault," he tells me, clenching his jaw. "That Greenie, I saw him when I went through the Changing. It helps you remember, and I remember him. Grievers never come that close to the Doors. It's his fault Ben got stung mostly anyway."

Grievers have never been that close before, but I never thought about it. Not that any of that matters as much. I tried to kill the shank. Wish I had succeeded anyway.

"That Greenbean is going to get what's coming," Gally leans closer to me, crossing his arms over his chest. "And we'll stop him, since Alby's been as much help as a klunk-eater."

I don't even know what he is on about, but I nod. It seems as though that is all he has to say though, and it is all I have to say. Being grateful is not something I can express in my highly limited vocabulary either, so for a few seconds he and I do nothing but nod together, our chest practically glued together.

Then, one of us kisses the other.

Harsh and strong. Our mouths pressed together. He grips the collar of my shirt, pulling me in tighter against him. My fingertips pull at his neck, bringing him into me as close as possible. There is too much distance between us. There is no talking, only bringing our bodies closer together. Ripping off our clothes. I feel my buttons torn off my clothing and I do not care.

Gally's arms are wrapped tightly around me. My nails dig into his skin, deep into his flesh. Trying to pull him against me in ways people don't fit together. It feels as futile as shoving two pieces from different puzzles entirely together. No matter how hard I try, he can't get close enough. He tastes like sweat, but in a sweet way. A way that makes my mouth only press harder into his. A mouth that opens up as he likes my lip, letting him inside. I have no protests, this is what I wanted.

This isn't enough.

Hebites into me, slamming me into the Homestead behind me. The wood is cold anddamp against the small of my back, and it gets colder and damper as he pressesme further against it. Until there is nothing left to keep me covered from thecold air, and nothing to keep him covered. Nothing shelters us from each other,nor from my hands that grip at his shoulders, nor his hands that cling onto myhair, directing me where he needs me. Nothing except my gasps into the nightair as I finally feel his is enough to fill what is missing inside me. Nothingexcept his raspy grunts, as one fist grips my hip and the other grasps at myface. There is nothing more keeping us hidden from each other.


	4. I could be saving

Ella 4

Thomas is alone.

Waiting for a boy he hurt. I saw him, when he got here. I saw his smug face. He did this to us. Cracked us open and left us to bleed. He stole all the thoughts from my head, stole her from me, stole all of this from everyone.

People have died, Thomas. People are dying.

Maybe she is dead too. I cannot bear the thought of the loss of purple. Sunrises and sunsets all gone. There is no salvation for us. He took the lilacs and the colour, and turned all the boys into grey teens and left me trapped here. Lacking all that once belonged to us in this world. Stolen is this world. The sun is an illusion, all the gold gone, and I am left a sickly dark hue.

He stole from me, stole from all of us. I wonder if he can hear her whispering sweet nothings in his ear. I wonder if he can see us bleeding on the pavement. Ankles shattered from long climbs. Boys broken from falling down deep dark holes. These are not metaphors, these are realities I can remember when I let my mind rest for a minute.

"I heard he jumped," I tell the three of them.

Only two of them new the boy, for even I didn't but the two cannot breathe.

"Is he..."

"Alive," I answer, though she does not ask about that boy. She asks about another. "Nobody's died we knew yet."

"I hate the way you say yet," she continues on, marching over the other girl's silence.

The girl who knew none of the ones we do sighs. "It's only worse out there."

Thomas was behind that. That pain and suffering. He was the root cause of it.

He was the source of all this anguish. More complicate than the Smoke man, he is his own sort of brand of evil. He has murdered me, and all of us, and we should've known better than to trust him.

I sit down across from him. Trying to breathe, but my lungs won't function.

He looks up at me, with soft eyes and a heavy chest. Mine shoot out from in the bench, backing away. His brown eyes are glossy, and dull, like he's just seen a Griever for the first time.

On your first morning, they have a grey boy take you to see a Griever, but Thomas should recognize them. After years of watching he should know what they look like. I am sure of it.

He told me he was going to ask to go up with his memories intact.

"We have to do it before they send him up," I whisper to her across the table.

"We're good on my end," she whispers back, lightly tapping the bottom of the table. "My whole team is a go, and they know what they are getting into."

That was the plan, with his memories together, the day we were due. Instead, he shows up a month later, a blank canvas. Did we change this?

"You don't remember," I tell him, like he doesn't know. "You don't remember me.

He stands up, moving closer. At first, he doesn't say anything, before he parts his lips. "Why, do you remember me? Are you one of those people who went through the Changing?"

No, there was nothing to change. He doesn't remember, he is gone, they took him. Which can only mean one thing.

They are sending her.

"No, no, no," I back away from him, stumbling on the ground. "You don't remember? They are going to kill us! We are going to die!"

Thomas rushes towards me, trying to help me up, but I slide as far away from him as possible. "Are you alright?"

"You were supposed to remember, Thomas!" I shout, trying to keep my head above water. "They were supposed to cancel it and restart, or you were supposed to remember. I don't know what is going to happen!"

"I even got her to agree to it," he tells me, trying to reason me. "They'll let me in, and I can take them down that way. They aren't even going to send the eight of you guys left over in there."

Eight, as if he knows.

"See Ella, I'm fixing this," Thomas smiles while I frown.

"We've given you too long to fix this," I tell him. He may not have told me before now of his plan, the night before it was supposed to go into action, but of course I overheard. This place has ears. "Now, we are going to put back together everything you've broken."

"I didn't tell you my name," he manages to whisper.

Someone is picking me off the ground, although his hands are grey so I don't recognize their origins.

"We don't have time for this!" I try to rip myself free of the hands around me. "It's all going to be over soon! We only have a few seconds left! The Smoke Man watches us Thomas. He stole, do you remember? With his white pen and his white pages and his gridded lenses? We were there Thomas, do you remember?"

The hands flip me, to have me face away from the boy, dragging me away somewhere. I can't tell who it is, but I hear voices.

I don't remember why we are here. I remember the anger and the rage, and the wish to sabotage, but I don't know what. What are they looking for? What did they want me to do? What was the plan?

What is the Violet girl's name?

"Thomas, you've got to escape!" Can he hear me or am I shouting into a vacuum? "We've got no time! Beat them, WICKED is-"

It's at this point that my body shuts down.


	5. I could be trying

Leo 5

Ben has finally stopped screaming when the alarm sounds. It's loud, and we can even hear it echoing up into the rooms of the Homestead. I can hear chatter erupting outside as boys run to the Box. I lean out the window, trying to get a better sight of what's happening.

Everyone is running towards the box.

"Yo, you think there is gonna be a new shucking Newbie already?" I can hear Jeff pounding up closer to me, peaking out the window over my shoulder.

I lean out the frame completely. Clint takes a few seconds to arrive behind us, panting as he does. They had to sedate Ella again, since she had the freak out this morning. I'm happy she didn't attack him; and Alby made it clear that if she does she's being banished.

"Klunk is only getting weirder," Clint sighs, leaning closer into us so he can peer out the window over top of our heads. He lets one of his hands rest on Jeff's waist, and I feel a jealousy I cannot explain.

I wish we could've been like that, but it will never work.

"You tellin' me," he begins, rolling his eyes. "First, we get four shucking girls, one of whom has a brain tumor or some other klunk."

"I meant more recently," Clint adds roughly. I can tell he is doing it for my sake, since he doesn't want me to think I am unwelcome here, but I know I am. Not just because they are shacking either, although that is a large part of it. "And I meant more on the end of the Creators."

"Like Ben getting' stung at the Doors?" Clint asks, leaning over. "Never seen a Griever come that close to the Glade, and I hope I don't ever again. Then, Gally keeps going off about how he definitely recognizes that Greenie, and how we'd be better off to throw him back down the box. Now another Greenie, in two days?"

Jeff intends to ramble on, so I cut him off. "Hopefully it's a cow or something useful."

The two boys pause, as Clint starts snickering. Michelle could use a cow to butcher, give her a helpful place to take out her anger now that she's a Slicer. Apparently, it doesn't matter that Ben is out for the week, Alby is sending her to the Slicers starting now.

"Hopefully it's not our problem," Clint corrects. "Already have my hands full with Ella, Ben, and the Builders every day. I don't need another shank shucking it up."

There is a huge crowd moving around the Box now, with Alby and Newt at the epicenter. The Greenie, Thomas, is standing with Chuck, trying to push through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse. Dawn stands near the middle, with Frankie and Frypan. I imagine Joe is still inside chopping away to food, not really giving much of a shuck about what's going on out here.

"Can we go down and see what the shuck is going on?" Jeff glances over, at Clint. "We've got like, what, twenty minutes before it comes up?"

Dawn spots me and waves at me with gigantic movements. She gestures for me to come down and meet her, and I find my hands waving slightly back and forth. I can't go down though, well I can and I should but I can't keep doing this to myself.

Clint pauses before he finally agrees. Jeff is racing down the stairs, pulling Clint in tow behind him. I follow them slowly, out of pure instinct. My feet find themselves scuffling across the ground. Of course, I want to know what is in the Box, but I can't find the will to join the Gladers. I thought things have been better since I climbed the Wall, and since they saved me from banishment, but it's not.

I mean, there is nothing wrong, but there is nothing right either. When I'm not panicking, the days sort of blur into one and I can't tell the thirteenth day from the thirtieth. It's not quite a month I've been here, that day should be tomorrow, but the problem is I can't tell. Nothing new is happening anymore. I kind of feel (or I guess I don't feel, I know) that there isn't much left.

See, part of me wants someone to come meet me halfway and walk with me to the Box, but no one does. Everyone is busy staring at down at the grey metal as the elevator within it clangs, reaching the top.

How long was I in the Homestead alone?

There is a hush on the Glade. From here I can see Alby and Newt peering into the Box, and people still as they wait for a response.

"It can't be worse than four girls, can it?" Jackson asks, and I can hear Michelle resisting the urge to punch him in the face again.

"Oh slim it, would you?" I'm surprised Doug is polite in his answer. "Just tell us what's in there."

I get to the Box, managing to push my way towards Clint and Jeff.

Alby is glaring over at Thomas, as if this is somehow his fault. As if something has gone wrong.

"It's another girl," Newt calls out.

So, nothing out of the ordinary then? Or, I guess it's out of the ordinary for them, but I've only known a Glade with four girls in it.

"Just one I hope," it's Jackson calling out again.

"Slim it before I shank you again," Michelle actually growls out-loud. I've never heard her verbally threaten someone.

"Stick a screwdriver in you again, boy?" Zart calls out, a smirk on his face.

"Bleed the colour of fruit, do ya?" That's Frankie, and his comment is followed by laughter.

At this Jacksons storms away, and I see Doug move over to follow him. At least I find comfort in knowing that it's not just the girls who hate Jackson for what he did. Maybe that did more help to Michelle's reputation than harm.

One of the track-hoes high-fives Zart, and when the Keeper sees me he winks. I'm really glad to have him on my side, if for Michelle's sake and not just Ella's.

"Just one girl," Newt's face has gone pale as she steps back from the Box. He moves further back before looking at me. "A shuckin' dead one I reckon."

At this I find my feet moving forwards towards the Box, of course everyone else does as well, but I manage to get through the crowd with Clint and Jeff only a few steps behind me. I am about to hop down into the Box when I stop moving.

She is covered in blood.

Blood trailing down her nostrils and eyes, leaking all over her face. From every orifice in her skin, including her mouth and ears, blood runs. Her shirt is covered in the deep red liquid, staining up and down. Alby is the one to jump down, attempting to lift her body, and Newt follows. Boys are already back with vines, helping them tie her up and lift them all out of the Box.

They place her on the ground, and I can't tell if she's breathing or not.

From over my shoulder, Alby begins to yell at Thomas, accusing him of I don't know what. A lot has happened in the past few days, too much of it to be coincidences I guess, although I find there are more eyes falling on me, staring at me as if this is somehow our fault, since we were sent up here.

I try to help move the girl, as the crowd is parting ways around us. This time, they know better than to catcall her, and I'm glad. I feel around her cold skin. She almost looks like Snow White, from her dark hair to the pale colour that infects her flesh.

I can feel her pulse.

"You don't recognize her either?" Alby is asking me the question, or rather any of the girls.

I shake my head. Of course I don't recognize her.

She shoots up to a sitting position, next to me, her blue eyes wide open. She stares at Thomas, turning her head to find him, and he stares back, mouth slightly agape.

Her lips part as she begins to speak. Blood spills out her mouth onto her dusty pink lips, tumbling down on to her blue button up. I don't think she notices, but the boys around me recoil when they see the raining blood.

"Everything is going to change."

She collapses back to the ground, but her right-hand points to the sky. In her fingers a shett of white paper, splashed with blood. I find myself stumbling back and away from her, unable to move forward. I give myself one second to breathe, before I move overtop of her. Alby leans in, taking the sheet of paper that lies in her palms. He reads it, before shoving the note in his pocket. I watch the Greenie read it over his shoulder, his face going pale.

That boy knows something, I almost guarantee. Ella's hallucinations seem to be becoming less and less like hallucinations, and the last fit she had, she had with him. I can't tell up from down anymore.

"Could you shanks deal with this after we get her to safety?" I hear Dawn call out to Alby.

The leader glares at her, before gesturing to Jeff, Clint and me to pick her up.

"What do you suggest we do?" Jeff shouts back to Dawn, his feet unmoving. "If you hadn't noticed, she's shucking unconscious. We already have our hands full with that paranoid borderline schizophrenic and Ben. Never mind, those Builders who can't shucking stop slicing their hands open every five seconds. Besides, I've got no shucking idea what to do with her."

"You shanks are the Med-jacks, it's your job!" Alby shouts back.

Newt doesn't offer any support. Instead, he is pulling Thomas aside to talk to him. Asking questions, I wait to over hear any of the Greenbean's answers, but none leave his mouth. No concrete ones. Alby is calling a Gathering tonight, and when he looks at me, it is quite easy for me to tell that I am not invited to this one.

Especially since I may be a part of the problem.

Dawn has been sent over to help me lift the girl, since Alby's no touching rule is still in effect. She is much lighter than I expected, though the feel of her fabric is rough against my freshly unbandaged hands. The medication served its purpose, but now my hands have pink and white dots scarring them along the skin.

A reminder of my failure to action.

"You got her?" When I nod, Dawn and I struggle to lift the girl off the ground. Jeff and Clint are only steps behind us, offering us hands if we feel the need to drop her. The whole thing blurs together. We are in a field, then we walk upstairs, then I lay her down in the room that is supposed to be Ella's. Now Ella will have to move in with the rest of us, or share with this corpse. Now I will have to worry about Ella coming to our room at night, and not just Michelle showing up in the wee hours of the morning and Dawn sneaking out when she thinks I'm asleep.

Maybe when this girl stops bleeding she'll join us too.

We finally prop her down in the bed, and Dawn waves us goodbye out the door.

Clint and Jeff finally start doting over the girl. Checking her temperature, wiping the blood off her face, taking her heart rate; the two boys fall into a synchronization built for just the two of them. One I can't find myself falling into.

I find myself falling out the door and into the hallway, and moving. I can't be in there. I can't be with them. I am barely a Med-jack most days, and I've got no shucking idea what to do with her. I lean back against the wall, bile rising in my throat. I will allow myself ten seconds to breathe, before I go back in there.

I count, listening to my chest rise and fall. It is hard to remind myself to calm down. I'm distracted by sound.

Dawn stands in the doorway to the room next door. Watching Ben, I assume, as that is his room. She has one hand clamped starch over her jaw, and one at her side, shanking. Her shoulders heave while she attempts to muffle her sobs. Hair falling out of her normally well put together tight braids, sticking up in all directions, her seams are unstitching and unravelling and I wish I knew how to sew.

She teeters back, falling against the wall behind her, before she looks up at me. I wait for any word to exit her mouth, but instead her nose runs, as do the tears in her eyes. Her normally pale skin has gone beat red, before she wipes at the liquid dripping down her skin.

"I thought it'd be better, seeing him suffer," she manages, trying to put herself together. Trying not to let me see how she bleeds. "I wanted to hurt him so badly. Sometimes, you know, when Minho touches me I have to resist the urge to cry, because of him. Never told Minho, don't know why I'm telling you," she snorts out a miserable laugh, and I feel my stomach falling to the floor.

I reach for her, but I don't know what I'm going to tell her. That I want to heal her? That I'm broken too? That's just pathetic, because she has reason to hurt. Nothing bad has happened to me, and yet I feel like klunk. I'm a klunk person.

"I'm sorry," she bursts past me, flying down the staircase.

My hand remains up, reaching into her shadow. I don't know how long I stand, trying to grasp at the idea of her.


	6. I could be alive

Dawn 6

"Can we talk?" It's Dave asking me, but I push past him. He tries to follow me anyway.

No one has gone back to their jobs after that girl came up, so I don't know what to do. I'm not sure what Dave wants to hear, since I feel as if I'm stuck in one spot. Trapped here, between a rock and a hard place. One last girl, or so they are saying, and Ben's screams still echoing are enough for me to handle.

His voice is following me, but I can't manage to hide. I thought his pain would be good. For weeks I had imagined hurting him, but it doesn't make me feel better. It doesn't.

"I'm busy," I push past Dave, but he manages to follow after me.

"Please," he continues on, trying to chase after me, but I find myself in the Deadheads, hiding. I can't do it. I need to see what happened for myself, in these woods.

I stood in the Slammer, for I don't even shucking know how long. Staring at the Walls. Glaring up at my blood. Blood that looks the same as Michelle's blood, blood that I let Leo see. I shouldn't care, but I do, and it is the principle of the haunting that haunts me.

My body is a house with old walls that creak and monsters hiding inside. Ghosts of boys rest in my bones, which ache and quake given their own fragility coupled with the weakness of my muscles. My body is a tavern, vast and empty but simultaneously prone to infestation by an unwelcome visitor. My body is anything but my body. It is anything but mine.

He did nothing to me, which is why I am ashamed. Part of me wishes he actually hurt me, and then the guilt wouldn't weigh down my stomach. Hurting him proved no relief; it only makes my stomach turn. His skin seems to melt off his, wasting away in the heat. Why must I be forced to watch him like that?

"It's about Michelle," at this I stop, and turn around. Dave has followed me. My mind is elsewhere. I can't concentrate on him, not in the darkness of the trees. It was dark in the Slammer that night. It is hard to make out Dave's shadow from his.

"I'm in love with her," he begins.

I can't react so I just wait for him to add something more. The limbs can't move, the lips can't speak, the mind can't think. Though the heart in this corpse beats, it beats for nothing. It doesn't feel nothing, it feels an absence.

I want Minho here, to be with me, but I can't burden him. He can't know. I won't let him.

"She's been distant lately," he continues, rubbing the base of his neck. "I don't know what to do."

"Just shucking find her tonight and force her to talk to you," words of advice spill out, but I don't know what they are, I don't know what they say. Seems the lips have a mind of their own. It certainly isn't mine. The mind rots in the skull. "Michelle is the kind of person you have to force."

I hate that this is the world I am advocating for. You should never force someone, but Michelle likes the pressure. She likes to need and to be angry and to shout. But when I think about it, that is what was done to me. Those are the hands that reached up and strangled me. The hands of not caring about my choice. Leo mentioned that Michelle liked Ben a while ago, but things change in seconds.

I am not the girl who was born in my body. Lost is the girl who first showed up here, right? Why is it bothering me now? I was fine, but now I'm not.

His hands were reaching for me. The wall was firm behind me. I couldn't escape, and even this forest, away from walls the same colour as the Slammer, feels suffocating. The trees are closing in on me and the sun is gone. The closest star to us has abandoned me. Perhaps the rest will soon enough.

When I look up, Dave is gone.

I find myself moving further in the forest. Where did he attack Michelle? Where did he try to force her, and where did Minho help her? Was it against these trees? Does it matter? The trees live on, sturdy witnesses. The blood dried and sunk it. At least it can disappear. At least she can hide from it. The blood stains the walls of the Slammer.

I couldn't save myself, and that is part of the worst part. Pathetically waiting, letting him do what he wanted, and for what? Protection for Minho that barely came? For Alby to forgive us?

Did I do this so I could hear him scream and suffer for hours? At the end of this all, he will come back to the Glade, and I will have to see him day and day again. Never would I consider dying; it's not in me. However, I would consider killing him. Not for his pain anymore, but for my salvation. The body is dead because he continues to feed off it. As long as he is alive, his memory stains me.

A shadow in a reflection. I see him in the kitchen, with Dave since the two know each other. He is evident in Minho. I hate that no one knows what he did. I hate that people can still like him, and pity him, and I am stuck in this rut. Stuck between the trees. Stuck without a sun.

I want to drink. I need to drink.

I hear a scream, coming from just around the corner.

It only takes me seconds to find it. The Greenie is on the ground, pulling himself to his feet as Ben stares him down. Ben has a knife in his hand, as he glares at the boy.

I find myself running straight for Ben. Raw strength, coming from nowhere, coming from inside me. This body that is death has something in it. When I see the Greenie, he is gone, and it is me. I am crying, and I am staring at myself as I find myself flying into Ben.

It takes a second for Ben to register me, and he aims towards me. His skin glistens, and he pants, and he tries to swing his knife at me. I duck underneath its, shoving him backwards. He stumbles only a bit, shaking his hands in front of him. My fist punches down into his wrist, knocking the blade out of his hand. It nicks my forearm, slicing the fabric and piercing my skin, but I barely pay it any mind.

I'm crying. I don't know when I started, or if I'll stop. I notice when I look down to see the blood trailing down my arm, and realize it feels the same as the tears on my face. Different warmth though, different texture.

I reach to the ground, picking up the dagger and shaking it at Ben in front of me.

"I'll kill you back," the sound is barely audible through the sobs, but I find the will to speak. Killing him back will still leave me broken. "I'll kill you too."

Ben straightens his back. Anger fills his jaw, and I realize where we are, and what is happening. I am not going to hurt him, because it won't help me. After this, he will be banished for sure. Without his knife, he is no danger. Just a boy, with red eyes, strung out from the amount of drugs in his system, and from the Griever attack. No one deserves this pain. No one deserves this death.

I want nothing to do with Ben, but from he way he carelessly moves towards me, I can tell he is only a threat to himself.

"Kill him," Ben shakes, pointing to the boy behind me. His finger lands on the Greenie, but I pay him no mind. "That shank's the problem."

"Ben," Alby is here. I don't know how long he's been here, but he is warning the boy, from over dozen feet off. "You're buggin'. Thomas is just the Greenie."

"I saw what happened," Ben continues, but I don't care. "Better dead than back there. Better throw ourselves off the side of the shuckin' Cliff."

Ben gets an odd twitch in his eye, staring at me. I hear Alby speaking, but I see the way Ben licks his lips. He remembers that night, and he doesn't hate it, and that's the worst part. Because I do, and maybe that is why I pity him.

In a flash he is on me. One arm wrapped around my neck and the other ripping the knife out of my grip. He strangles me, tight against him, before placing the cold blade against my skin. He's going to kill me, he's going to, and I can feel it.

"Just let me kill him!" Ben is shouting now, his spit spraying against my face, and I am still sobbing. He tightens his grip around me, and I can feel the circulation being caught around my neck. My toes reach for the ground, slipping off it as he hoists me in the air. "Don't want to kill her, no I don't. He's bad. Evil boy, evil evil boy. He isn't one of us."

"I don't understand what you are talking about," the Greenie interrupts, his hands up in defense.

"Put her down," Alby has a bow and arrow cocked straight for us, aiming delicately. We're too close, and Ben is stumbling too much. He shoots an arrow and I'm dead.

"Bad, bad, bad," he repeats it to himself over and over, shaking his head from side to side.

"One," Alby begins counted, and I find myself struggling more, trying to get out of Ben's grip.

Ben is frothing behind me, spitting and gripping me as tightly as he can. He practically howls in anger.

"Two," Alby continues on.

Ben cuts my neck as he tries to readjust me. He both loosens his grip yet pulls me firmly against him, and I can feel the pain. Blood trickles down onto my collar and I can feel it. I hate it.

"Ben," the Greenie speaks up, his voice shaking, "I don't know what- I'm not-"

Ben lets go of me, tossing me to the ground as he lurches forward.

"Three," I hear the arrow whiz forward, Ben's body crash to the ground on top of me.

I'm screaming, shuffling off the ground to get out from underneath the boy. The palms of my fists dig into the dirt, throwing it everywhere as I move away. Blood pools out of his face, which has been shot with a bow and arrow. Ben isn't moving, but I am screaming, and screaming, and screaming.


	7. I could be violent

Michelle 7

"Ben went nuts," Doug is talking a little too loudly to Adam. "Never seen him act that rough."

Dave ignores the two, as he puts the last of the supplies away. Most of the boys have disappeared already, with the exception of these three. Doug is doing putting away the supplies to purposefully antagonize me before, probably since I hit him. Not like he didn't deserve it though.

I didn't even come here to talk to any of them. I came for Gally, to talk about the shucking girl. As far as I am concerned, Doug's klunk can wait.

"Guess you didn't know the shank," I mutter it under my breath, but Dave's head swings around to look at me. Though he turns away, he shakes his head back and forth, disapprovingly.

"I knew him longer than you," Doug turns back to stare me down. "Wasn't like this before you showed up."

There is no use in acknowledging his comment.

"First the four of you show up," he begins, "then we finally think things are back to normal with that shuck-faced Greenie, and now there's that bloody girl all up here. Never seen nobody bleed."

I roll my eyes, since I definitely caused his nose to run red when I punched him in the face. If there were less people around, I do it now again. He honestly just gets on my nerves.

"Doug," Adam warns. He doesn't look at me.

That's right, talk him down. I am definitely not in the mood to be putting up with this klunk. Ben has brought me nothing but pain. He attacked me, tried to force Dawn, and now, he has escalated to attempted murder. I wish the Griever had gotten him this morning. Who gives a klunk about his suffering; the shot to the face didn't shucking kill him, so why should this?

"You did this," Doug ignores the warning, and I find myself moving closer.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be shucking dead," I cross my arms over my chest, waiting as Doug comes in closer. Soon, our chests are pressed against one another, and I am staring up at the boy.

"You want to fight?" He asks.

I nod. Shuck yeah, I want to do this. Doug has been nothing but a pain since I got here. Making gross comments about me and now accusing me of shuck knows what. As long as I am a quiet and docile object I don't bother him, but as soon as I start talking he objects.

I'm not a paper doll, and I'll shucking prove it.

"Call it off," Dave is whispering over my shoulder. His hand finds a place on the small of my back. He isn't ordering me, he is politely suggesting it. "Not worth the banishment. Save it."

He's right, and I hate it. I don't want to listen to Dave. I don't deserve him and he doesn't deserve me.

"What are you waiting for?" Doug asks.

"If you're so shucking brave, hit her first." Dave addresses Doug, moving away and off me.

Doug stands still. What game is Dave playing at? Does he think I won't get banished if Doug technically starts the fight? Because Alby has never been quite so forgiving, as far as I can tell.

Instead of acting, Doug backs away. He joins Adam, who is glaring at him more than me. More frustrated with his behavior than mine. Who almost started that fight?

"Just a little slinthead after all," I mutter it, and I know he can hear me.

"Rather be that than a shucking killer," he comments. "I guess you have no objections after you attacked Jackson though? And Ben, right? It was you that beat him up."

Why does everyone bring Jackson into this? He is the shucking Bagger who tried to get me banished, not the other way around. This klunk is on him, not me.

"Michelle," now it's Dave's turn to warn me.

I don't answer, instead choosing to smirk. If he is going to come for me, let him.

"Since when are you this antagonistic?" Dave mutters, leaning over my shoulder and whispering in my ear from behind me.

I am not normally. He's just openly coming out and attacking me. It's not pleasant like Dawn either. He's threatening me, and I wouldn't put it past Doug to get me banished. This is how I play this game.

"You're going to get us all killed," Doug continues. "People are dead because of you're stupid actions."

"I'm smart enough to punch you in the face and get away with it," I correct, telling Doug.

Doug just glares at me, and I wait for him to hit me. Instead, Adam drags him away. This leaves me alone with Dave.

"You're kidding me," I turn around to face Dave as he speaks. He stares at me, his blue eyes colder than I've ever seen them before. His voice has anger to it that I've never heard before. "You're actually shucking kidding me."

"What?" I ask, carefully.

He sighs, his shoulders losing their strength. We haven't talked, one on one, in a while. He got me when the others needed me, although that interaction was rather rapid. Prior to that, he tried to talk to me but he and Gally got in a fight. Even before that, we had done it the last time we talked.

"I thought you were going to try not to put yourself in harm's way?" Dave's eyes leave mine, staring at the ground. His voice is rough and angry. "I thought, you said, you were going to try to have friends. I thought you weren't going to fight everything. Especially not Doug, since he's just hurting."

He doesn't get it. I mean, he may know what is happening, but he doesn't live in my body. He doesn't understand what it is like to exist in these shoes. To exist in the Glade as a girl means I must be strong. I can't bend down to anyone, especially those threatening me.

"I'm not doing this, Dave," I mutter, frustrated.

He finally looks up at me, his shoulders somehow slumping closer to the ground.

"I'm glad," he doesn't sound glad. He sounds broken. "Because neither am I."

He walks away, and I can't help the guilt that fills me. He can't just leave like this. This is cowardice. Why isn't he willing to face a fight? He's supposed to scream at me, and I am supposed to scream back, and then we are supposed to forget that any of this happened at all.

I don't want this to be over.

"Wait," I call towards him, but he continues walking away.

I go to move towards him, but I feel a hand on my waist. I am ready to hit the boy who touches me. Since he clears his throat, I realise it is Gally, poised behind me.

I'm happy he's here, although I want to go find Dave. For some reason, I feel this crawling itch to apologise that I can't stand. Why is it always Gally versus Dave? Why can't it be both?

"Hear anything about the Greenie?" He cuts right to the chase, since I guess it's the only way we know how to do things since That Night.

"He's jacked," I don't bother to look at him over my shoulder. I haven't been able to properly see him anymore. His red cheeks now seem flushed. His eyebrows more concerned than angry, and both our chests heave together in a rhythm only he and I seem to recognize. His eyes pierce into my skin. No matter how clothed we are, I feel naked again. Maybe for once I feel vulnerable. "Winston doesn't like the Greenie much either."

"Winston's got a good nose for klunk," I guess Gally and Winston must be friends, from that comment. Winston is quite creepy, and he often hangs out with those Bagger fellas. I wonder if Gally is friends with them too. Why should that bother me?

"Everyone was just gripin' 'bout Ben," if I have to give the Slaughterhouses one thing, it'd be that Winston actually trusts me with a weapon. Maybe he and I got off on the wrong foot; after all we are pretty similar. He is reclusive, withdrawn, and doesn't give a shuck much about what anybody else says.

Gally doesn't answer. He doesn't say anything, and I wait for him to move around to the front of me but he doesn't. Maybe he is pissed about Ben doing shucking that but doesn't want to admit it.

"They think he'll live," he moves past me, heading towards the structure before us. It looks like a skeleton.

All the damage that he and Ben had reaped upon the place has been repaired by now, but the structure looks flimsy at best. I doubt that it'll be up and running within a month. We'll get a new Greenie before that gets erected. If the message that dead chick got isn't true.

"And?" I ask. "You gonna kill him?"

"He'll be banished," Gally's hands shake the bones before him, and it rattles. The sturdiness he was looking for is gone. Perhaps it wasn't there to begin with. "So that's as good as dead."

He says it as if it is so simple that it seems like he is just talking about the weather. Maybe he is. I don't know if there is a hurricane forming just over the wall, or if the sun is just hidden by the clouds. I am hiding down here from in anyway. I burn too easily.

"He's still causing trouble now," I tell him, firmly.

"Isn't trying to kill him once enough for you?" I don't remember telling Gally the truth, but I wonder what he has figured out. Are there more secrets he has hidden from me? If they are as dangerous as mine, I'd rather not know them. Knowledge comes with its own strand of danger as well. If I tell him, and it stands that I am wrong about him, I know we will not be banished.

Don't know that I can stand to lose him though.

"He's actually worth it," I don't tell him I almost just straight up stabbed Doug, although he could probably guess that.

Shucking hate Doug.

"I see you and Dave are back to arguing," Gally mentions, and at this he finally turns around. His eyebrows are firm and down, and he glares towards me. "Did you tell him about last night?"

No, I didn't. I don't know that I could. Last night feels so long ago, but it was indeed less than twelve hours ago. There isn't a part of me that doesn't remember.

It wasn't the same with Dave. He was softer, gentler, and desperate in a way that is almost sad. That Night though, That Night was different.

My skin feels raw in places I choose to ignore.

"Don't say you wouldn't tell him," Gally doesn't let me speak, although I wasn't going to. He takes steps closer to me so he can lower his voice. "You only kissed me to get shucking back at him. Maybe you knew Dave was watching this time too."

That doesn't even dignify an answer.

He tries to grab my wrist, but I rip it form his grip. I have more than half a mind to punch him in the face. For some reason though, I don't protest his accusation. Maybe I want to see exactly how far he'll go before I hit him.

"Because you sure as shuck didn't go after me after you kissed me," he continues on. "Never tried to shack me. Never even tried to kiss me. Did nothing but mock me at every corner. Until last night."

I take a step back, but he pulls me in closer against him. He won't let me go. "Say you like me."

He is asking, because he needs to hear it. He is asking, because he needs to know that I like him. Is he jealous of David? Or is this worse?

Gally's eyes scan my face, his lips parting. He isn't cocky. I always thought he was, but he isn't. Rough and cruel, he doesn't think he is better than me.

He thinks he is worse.

I kiss him. My mouth on his, trying to tell him what words can't say. He freezes at first, but he tentatively moves into me. Hands in my hair, gripping against me as tightly as he can. I hold him back.

When I pull away, I watch his eyes open slowly. I watch him wait for more, but maybe I can finally tell him what he needs to hear.

"Talk to me like that again and I'll come at you with one of the knives we use to chop up pigs like yourself."


	8. I could be with her

Ella 8

I know you are in there.

Black, black hair, and ice, stabbing eyes. You know, I can see your soul seeping out.

Puddles on the pavement. We once had pavement. We once had streets, and street lights, and real stars in the sky. She glowed.

You, bad girl. Light-lips-like-vanilla girl, actually dark and heavy and violent like coffee. Like the hands of the smoke man. Skin not like smoke, liar girl. You choke-me-up-and-spit-me-out-for-consumption girl.

You even sleep, mean lady?

Life ruiner. I lost a love. Lost a lot more than that too. There is no me, no you, no sun, no stars. No her. She's gone, in fire and rain. Washing away in a flood, but you remember. I bet you do. Want me to kill you? I could do it, but you know where she is. Seen her with eyes that see. My eyes are blind.

Killer bitch, get killed bitch.

It is dark and lonely without her.

Nasty woman. You are natural and prosthetic. Take the metal out of your skin. I don't ask politely. No more politely. No more sun. You stealer. You thief.

You know, metal tastes like blood. You remember watching them bleed? How long you been watching through the bugs? What you want is not what I can give. What do you want?

Vengeance.

She was beautiful.

Pale, like you, but not bad pale. Pale like she had been trapped in a room forever. Existing in infinite and expanding ways; a rainbow of violets. Did it hurt you to take her? Because it hurts me still, in ways you cannot begin to comprehend.

I am bleeding, everywhere now.

I don't remember what you did, but I remember not liking you. I don't remember what Thomas did, but he's just as bad too.

There's a room, and I'm sitting in it. They placed me on the bed next to her, and that's how I can watch her so easily. Why is it so simple to snap out of that like it was a simple daydream? Why has my memory washed away?

There was a plan. Before that, there was Thomas. Before that, I was supposed to be her. Before that, I met a face obscured in darkness and the Smoke man. The two are so much of the same I can't tell one from the other.

"I wonder if you can here me," I find myself slinking off the sheets, moving in closer to the girl. The fabric which covers her is soft, at least softer than my bed. I don't remember Teresa, though I know her name.

I keep rehashing over and over again all that I know, as if more details will come spilling out of the filing cabinets which hold my memories.

There was the Violet girl and Smoke man, there was my role, there was Thomas, and there was a plan. One to get us here, at least, for some reason.

I wonder where Thomas is.

I slowly make my way over to the window, peering outside. I don't see him, although I don't see much of anyone. From here I can make out the faint figures of boys I recognize working in the garden, although I don't think any of them are Zart.

With no Thomas in sight, I find my way moving back to Teresa.

"I know you did it," it's but a whisper. I don't know if this is an act or if she can actually hear me. Maybe it would be better if I feigned idiocy, but I'm sure the Smoke Man knows by now. It does no good pretending. "You're the reason she is gone."

Teresa doesn't flinch. Her pale skin rests still. I know her name isn't even Teresa Agnes, but something else that I even she wouldn't know. Not that they probably let even her keep it. She might not realise it, but she is as much beneath them as I am.

"I want you to know that I lost her," I lean in closer, my hand placed firmly on her wrist. "I don't know if I'll ever find her again. Maybe she's been dead for years, or maybe I will be dead for years before you see her next. If we both survive, maybe we won't recognise each other when we come face to face."

This is a cruel world she has created for me to live in. If she is dead, then Teresa killed her. Regardless, I must get through this to find her again. I want to know the past, to get me out of this. The truth will bring me to her, no matter the cost.

"Trigger the ending," this time, I hope she can hear me. "I don't care if every single person in the Glade dies, but you and I will live, and you will bring me back to her for once and for all."


	9. I could be sturdy

Leo 9

"I'm really, fine to go back to work," Dawn pleads. I get the feeling she is lying to me, even though she looks straight into my eyes. When she realises that isn't working, she shakes her head and looks back at me. "Please, Leo. I just want things to go back to normal."

I don't know how I can tell her things probably won't go back to normal. Not with that strange girl just around the corner, unconscious. Not until Dawn can talk about what's bothering her.

Clint gave me the power to clear them, after what we voted on last night. He trusts both my medical judgement, and my judgement as a friend. It's still a relationship of equals. If Dawn didn't want to go back to work, I wouldn't make her, even if I technically could.

It's different though, since I don't know that she is ready to return after last night.

"We had to sedate you just a few hours ago," I tell her, sighing. "Ben is still out there."

"I can handle it," she counters, standing up. She isn't shaking, although I can tell something about her seems off. "Listen, Lee, I'm not going to lie and say that didn't shuck me up. It did."

I know it did. She threw up practically a week's worth of food. So, I can't say I'm entirely surprised that the situation hurt her.

She grabs my wrist, and I ignore the itch that over takes me. I just want to make her happy, and if she goes back to work, she'll be happy. So, I take a step back. "He stabbed you."

"It was superficial," she brushes it off, moving the injured hand as if to further her point. When she realises I'm not budging, she sighs. "At least tomorrow?"

I don't want to nod, but I nod anyway.

"And I can eat lunch with the Cooks?"

"Dawn," I warn her. She is pushing, but she only continues to bite her lip, waiting for me to tell her yes.

"Fine," I sigh.

She pulls me in for a tight hug, before pulling back. "You're the best."

In a flash, she is running out the door. I am about to call after her, to tell her lunch isn't for another half hour, but I let her run off. As long as she is back after lunch, I can't be mad.

I might even force myself to eat lunch today. Breakfast and dinner I've managed to nail, since we always eat dinner as a group and since Newt always comes in at breakfast with food for me. Lunch though, I always forget that one. Need to start eating it soon too, or I'll faint again when the next bit of terrible news comes my way.

For now, it is back to Ella and the girl in the coma.

I walk across the hall and open the door to the room they share. Ella stands over the girl's bed. Though she is still, she leers over like a vulture.

"Leave her alone," I pull Ella off of the girl, pushing her down into her own bed.

Ella's eyes are still and glassy, as she stares forward. Somehow, her eyes pass through me. I kneel down in front of the girl, as she sits on her bed frozen in time. I take her small, and delicate fingers into my hand, holding them still.

"Ellie," I've never called her that, but it feels right. The words, to me, seem to be words I've utter a million times before. "Earth to Ellie?"

She looks down at me, though her eyes remain as stagnant. I squeeze her cold hands, even though I don't know if she can feel it. "You okay in there?"

Her lips hang ajar. Slowly, I stand up. It is easier to move her body into a lying down position on the bed than I had imagined. She is much more complacent than I had imagined.

When she is safely in the bed, I turn my attention back to the girl. She seems mostly untouched, with the exception of a crack on her lip, which scabs over. Without the blood, she is really pretty. Her skin is clear and pale, and her lips a soft pink. Although most of that can be attributed to the coma, outside of that she seems muted. Distant, even.

Is she really the last of us all to arrive?

She hasn't begun to wake since we got here. Although, I wonder what a shot of adrenaline might do. I mean, I should run it by Clint, but I've begun to figure out that everything he knows he has discovered through trial and error. At this point, I probably know technically as much as he does.

She's only been unconscious for a day, so I doubt that counts as being comatose. I don't know her blood type, and I don't know how to test for it, so a transfusion wouldn't do the trick.

I mean, it'll only matter if I check. I move to the corner of the room, to the cabinet where we keep the drugs. The doors creak open as I open them.

"That's not fair to her," I don't recognize that voice entirely, although it is familiar. Not someone I know well enough to understand through a wall.

The second voice hushes the first, and that's when I start to pay attention.

"It's not fair to us not to try," that's Clint. He isn't arguing with Jeff though, as per usual. Jeff is trying to get some more clothes from the Bricknicks for Teresa. Currently, she is covered in blood. Which means he must be fighting with someone else, in a harsh whisper. "Besides, it's causing her a deep amount of pain the way it is."

"Realigning the chip will help?" The first voice asks.

Chip? What do they mean? There are only five people they could be talking about, and one of them seems more likely than the others.

Clint sighs, "if something is out of line, that's generally not good. She might be in a much better condition if we make one simple incision. Jeff already has agreed to help me."

The other voice doesn't answer. He only seems to shift slightly, before he too sighs. "You don't know why they put those there."

They are talking about the chip, but it such loose terms I don't know what they mean.

"I can make an educated guess," Clint remarks, stepping either closer or farther from the boy. It's hard to read the tone of the conversation without being able to see it. I can't feel how they feel, although I know Clint is trying to convince the other boy. I don't think the other boy is buying it though. "It's attached to our brains, and we don't remember things. I mean, it could do much, much more, but at the very least it is what is blocking out our memories."

"You shift it and she'll just wake up and be normal again?"

Clint pauses, and I can't tell if he is nodding or shrugging, but I need to find away out of this conversation, by finding out who Clint is talking too, and what about, without letting him know I'm eavesdropping.

"Clint," I call out, pulling out from the cupboard and rounding out the door. "Do you think I should-"

It's just Clint alone in the hallway, with his hands on his hips. He waits for me to continue, stepping closer. It is only now I realize his power is menacing.

"What?" He asks, moving into the room past me. "Did something happen?"

"I was going to ask if we could administer adrenaline to Teresa," I don't know how to end the sentence.

Clint shakes his head. "I would if we knew what happened to her."

"It looked like she was bleeding internally," I begin, "judging from the amount of blood coming from her nose and ears. Perhaps she had an adverse reaction to something. I thought the adrenaline might shock her body awake."

"Or it could increase her internal bleeding," Clint adds, crossing his arms over his chest.

I wasn't really think about that. I guess I was mostly trying to find a solution without really analysing the problem.

"Or the Creators are doing this," I add further. "So maybe she'll wake up when she's supposed to."

At this Clint snaps towards me. He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses before saying something. I wonder if he knows I heard his conversation.

"Can you go check on Jeff?" He asks. "I have a feeling he's getting a rough time from Jackson. He doesn't like the new chick anymore than he likes Michelle."

I nod, not saying another word before I leave the room. I can't really argue with Clint, since he doesn't know I know. So long as Jeff is not in the room, I have no reason to think he is going to operate on the unconscious girl. Which means that she is safe for now. At least I have that.

When I walk out the front door, I begin to move towards the Bricknick shed. The air is fresh, and the day is new. It doesn't feel quite as safe as it should. I can feel how different everything is now. Existing has a sense of urgency. At least there isn't anyone currently undergoing the Changing.

Last night, they decided to banish Ben. I hope that problem is far behind us. Even if we have to watch him go tonight. They voted to have me push him in the Maze. It was a narrow draw too, but I managed to get most everyone on my side.

Though I am still not a Keeper, I get a vote whenever there is a girl involved (which means last night I did). Although, the vast majority of the time I'm kept out of the loop.

The Bricknick shed is not too far away, so I can see Doug waiting inside, talking to Jeff and Jackson. When I pull up, Doug excuses himself, moving around behind me. I don't know where the Keeper of the Bricknicks is (nor his name), but maybe he'd be of more help.

"Hey Lee," Jeff calls over his shoulder, barely paying an attention to me. His face is red in a huff, and his arms are crossed over his chest. "Clint send you? Trust me, I can handle this. Go get lunch or something."

We've still got most of an hour until lunch, but whatever. I turn around and leave Jeff in his hullaballoo.

Right when I turn around, I bump into Newt. We stumble into each other, our chess pressed together, before each one of us steps back.

"Hey," he gestures for me to follow him, away from the Bricknick shed. "Just the Glader I was looking for."

Me? "What's your deal?"

"Walk and talk?" I nod at his offer, and soon we are walking away. We do a bit more walking then talking though. Newt seems to have a lot on his mind at the very least. He teeters a bit as he steps on his bad leg. I still haven't asked him what happened.

"Going well with the Greenie?" Alby is too stressed out about this whole Teresa situation to put much effort into it, never mind Ben's deal.

"He's a bit of a shank, but smart as shuck that Greenbean," Newt begins, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "He went through it last night. Felt like a shank for sending him straight into the Bloodhouse after watching Ben get shot in the face. Had to though, it was better than making him wait around all day scared as shuck."

I heard they placed him with the Slicers, which I imagine is more than a bit rough. Seems pretty bloody, and pretty messy. More than enough to scare him out of that profession.

"I imagined he'd be scared regardless," I was taken care of Dawn, since she was a bit hysterical, while the other two were taking care of Ben. Nobody really had time for Thomas. "I wish I had checked in on him. Dawn was a bit..."

"She was shucking bugging worse than Ben," he's disappointed as he finishes the sentence. "Glad you didn't send her back to work."

He shrugs over to a picnic table where she talks to David. The two seem to be having quite the heartfelt conversation. No doubt it's about Michelle again. Wonder what she did this time.

"She couldn't handle it," I tell him, kicking at the grass. We're eventually making our way into the Deadheads. "I could tell she was upset about Ben. I don't think the banishment is going to help either way."

"At least Ben gets what he deserves," Newt tries to swallow it. I know he wants the guy gone because he breached one of our most important rules, but I understand he doesn't want anybody to die. Don't get me wrong, I want Ben to be punished for all that he's done. Killing him though, is extreme. Especially since my hands are attached to the noose.

"That's why I was trying to find you anyway," he begins. "I wanted to shucking apologise for voting in favour of you."

Is he serious? "You want me to have less power?"

"That isn't what I mean, and you bloody know it," he looks away from me, staring at the trees that surround us. "It's just... I don't... You're sweet."

"What?" He isn't making any sense.

Newt turns to face me, the trees shadowing over him. The light bends through the trees to find spots on his face. Half of him is in the light, and half of him is in the dark. I wonder who he is hiding from me. Normally I meet the kind Newt, the helpful Newt, the thoughtful Newt who cares about everyone else. Unlike these clear-cut lines on his face, from light to shadow, Newt's intentions bleed into his actions.

What I mean is, Newt is kind for a reason. Something he hasn't told me, something dark and sad guides all his actions. It's why he is soft with me and harsh when we are in groups. Maybe he sees himself in me, or maybe he senses I am fragile too.

Whatever the case, I know Newt is sad. To the extent which that goes, I do not know.

It is obvious in the way he looks at me now. A smile that exists more in his eyebrows as he tries to force it on his face. His lips retain a sour look as he speaks. "You're really nice Leo, and I've been on the end of that banishing pole. Shucking nasty experience. I didn't want to make you do that, but I didn't want it to look like I didn't trust you as a leader."

I don't mind. It's hard to shove Ben out, but I don't think of it as my hand's killing him. I imagine one of my hands belongs to Dawn and the other Michelle. They are the one's who Ben has hurt and it is them who push him out. I only act as a vessel for them to do so.

"You don't need to worry about me." I wish Newt were standing closer to me. This feeling, I know what it is. It has happened before, and I like it no more now. It is just as welcome here as there, and I choose to ignore it. It won't subside, but maybe I can push through it.

"I can't help it," he smiles weakly. "It's too shucking easy to give a damn."


	10. I could be protesting

Dawn 10

Dave continues to pour his heart out on the table, and I'm sorry I didn't give him any time of day sooner. Although last time we spoke I was preoccupied, now it is a sort of buzzing distraction. It's part of the reason I couldn't handle staying in the Homestead all day today. It feels so claustrophobic in there, and everyone is worried about my health.

The easiest way to move past this now, is to forget.

"I don't even know what I'm competing against." Dave leans into his arms, which are crossed on the table. He lifts his head, and dully hits it off the table.

I slide my hands under his head, when he lifts it again, and his head lands on the soft backs of my hands. When he leans to the right, my hands follow him, protecting his head from the table.

"Would you quit it, Mom?" He's kidding, so I laugh. "I'm trying to be all mopey and you aren't helping."

"That's kind of the point," I lean down against the table, so we are at eye level. He frowns, harder, if that's possible. When I copy his face, I watch him struggle not to laugh. Not so easy, is it Dave?

"You're kind of klunk at relationship advice," Dave sighs, rolling his eyes. "Thought you'd be better since you are shacking some Mysterious Fellow."

He has called Minho Mysterious Fellow more than once now. I've brushed it off, since he and I both know it's Minho. Unless maybe he thinks it's Frypan, but to me that's funny enough I'd let him belief it.

I like Mysterious Fellow. When we started, I used to like the secrets. Running around in the dark, with our heads in the stars and our arms in the trees was all I wanted. He was a Mysterious Fellow. The Maze Boy who found me when I fell. The one keeps trying to catch me, even though I insist on slipping through his fingers.

"It's hard to give advice to someone who is so bloody hideous though," I laugh. "I can pick up any single shank here. You'd be lucky to get some time in a locked shed with Gally."

Dave physically shudders at the mere idea. I should hang out with him more. He's actually such a good time. Don't know why Michelle wouldn't jump at the chance to be with him. Though he's no match for Minho, Dave is a great guy.

Besides, I can tell that he cares. You need people with passion. Passivity will be the death of our fragile society.

"Newt? Alby?" I turn to see that Greenie (he definitely told me his name but I was so shucked I couldn't even look left or right the next morning, let alone remember the poor shank's name) calling out for anybody. He stands at the West door, in front of the collapse body of a Runner.

I can't tell who it is, but Minho runs one of the two routes out the West door.

I am out of the bench in a flash, running towards the doors. Alby beats me there, but he is running off before I for help before I even arrive.

"You alright?" I run up, moving closer, staring down at Minho. "Are you stung?"

Minho looks up at me, before gesturing to the Greenie beside him. "I'm fine Dee. It's okay."

I sigh, choosing to trust him over the instincts in my gut. "What the shuck happened? Why are you back? It's the middle of the shucking day."

"He'll tell us when Alby gets back," the Greenie tells me.

I shoot Minho a dirty look. Yeah, Minho will tell them both at the same time, but I'm a shuck bit more important than the two boys combined. At least to Minho anyway. If he's been shucking stung by a Griever, I need to get Leo the shuck over here.

Minho's sweat through his shirt, and by the look on my face I can tell he is sweating a bit more. "Seriously, I'm fine. Remember the time you were out there?"

I freeze. We saw a shucking Griever the first time and only time I was out in the Maze. You're telling me he's alright and one of things came up to him?

"That but different." He finishes when he sees my face.

"You can't just pet those shuck things!" I tell him.

"Please," he quips. "They're as cute as you."

"You've have terrible taste," I roll my eyes.

Minho licks his lips, grinning at me. For half a second, I think he is going to wink. I hate that I am trying to be angry, and that he is making a joke out of this, and it is working. He has a way of disarming me. I can't stay angry, no matter how worried I am.

"Are you a Runner too?" The Greenie asks, looking up at me, confused. "Shouldn't you be out running?"

At one time, I had desperately wished I was a Runner but now I am content to hang out in the Glade. Things are complicated enough with me throwing myself in there. Even if my hair craves the wind.

"Yeah, right," I immediately look over and sigh. "My first day as a Greenie, I ran in the Maze. Stupid as shuck idea."

He nods, apprehensive but silent. Didn't mean to scare the poor shank away.

Alby finally shows up, handing water Minho, who then drinks it down. When he's done, he drops his hand. The cup smashes against the ground from the sheer force of Minho's limp arm. He must've sprinted all the way back here. No wonder he is so sweaty.

Alby taps his foot impatiently, before crossing his arms over his chest. "Just shucking say it."

Minho eyes the Greenie out of the corner of his eye, but Alby just shoves his hands up in frustration. "Shuck if I've got the time to care this week. He can hear it."

Alby glances at me out of the corner of my eye, as if it's somehow my fault. While yes, I did shuck Minho, and I did get in a few scuffles with Ben, they aren't solely my fault. The whole Ben thing is on Ben (even if sometimes I think it is on me), and Minho shucked me just as much as I shucked him.

Minho manages to pull himself off the ground, even though he huffs as he does it. "There was a dead one."

"One?" Alby's impatience shows, and I don't know how much I blame him after the past four days. He found out about Minho and me and Ben's violence, then Ben got stung, then this Greenie showed up, then a girl Greenie, and now whatever the shuck this is.

"Dead Griever, shank." Minho manages to spit out.

Those things don't just shucking die. And, I doubt he killed one. I doubt anybody could kill one.

"Bad joke on a day like today," Alby's animosity for Minho is showing. I know the riff between the two existed before now, but due to the lies between them it is much worse. There was a rumour going around for a while that Minho was going after Alby's job, which could be true but I doubt it.

Minho is content being the Keeper of the Runners. I can't imagine what shenanigans he'd get up to if he was left to his own devices.

"I'm not playing," Minho rolls his eyes, stretching out his arms. "It was out by the Cliffs."

"What did it look like?" I ask.

"Couldn't explain it if you shacked me," he winks at the end of the word, and I play it off by rolling my eyes. That shucking Greenie doesn't know about us. Maybe Minho is playing flirty.

"You know the rule," Alby enunciates every syllable. I don't know if he is talking about how no one else can find out, or about how we can't be shacking in the first place.

"Shacking?"

The Greenie finally pops into the conversation, and I actually laugh out loud. Can't help it. Minho joins me in chuckling. Alby's face is firm, and strong, though the Greenie's is pink with embarrassment. He looks down at the ground, nervous. He's so adorable.

"Seriously Minho?" Alby demands. "The Griever is more pressing."

Minho looks up, before sighing. "I could bring you to it before Night-fall, if we hurried to shuck."

Alby shakes his head, glancing down at his watch. "Better wait until morning."

"Best shuck idea you've had this month," Minho sighs. He cracks his back, twisting to the side, before he begins to shuffle away. He casts a glance over his shoulder, and when I see his brown eyes my breath hitches in my throat. He is still so handsome I get distracted by him. "Dawn, could you help me steal some of Fry's food, that'd be amazing."

He's putting on a show for Alby, to prove we can be civil in public. I bite back. "I'll kick the klunk out of you before I'm your maid."

"Two fantasies of mine anyway, so I'll take either," he winks at me. The show is over.

Alby groans behind me. "Minho!"

"I get it now," I hear the Greenie mutter beside me. Someone's finally clued in. I shake my head back and forth at Minho, as I struggle to suppress the smile on my lips. Minho winks at me, then shrugs at Alby.

I reluctantly follow Minho despite all this, since I'm a bit rough with Alby right now. I'd rather deal with Minho, and his strangely flirtatious attitude.

"What's gotten into you?" I gently elbow him when I catch up to him. He smiles more today than he has over the past few weeks. It makes me beam too. Everything about him is contagious.

He looks at me, a smile playing at his lips. "Any chance I can take to piss off Alby is one I'm taking. Besides, if I get a chance to flirt with you publicly, I'm shucking taking it. I've been dying to since I saw your pretty shuck face in that Maze."

"Slim it," I giggle, shoving him playfully.

I wish we could go public. Unfortunately, we are stuck in this rut together. Not out in the open, but not entirely hidden either. A mess of something in between.

I glance around the Glade, looking at all the boys lined up. "They started serving lunch, so if you're hungry..."

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, smirking. I look away, my eyes finding the long line of Gladers waiting for food from the Cooks.

"I'd rather change first," his clothes are pretty much soaked through, so I don't blame him when we enter the Homestead. His room is closest to the door, so we enter almost as soon as we are in the building.

He kisses me, shutting the door behind him. I ignore the sweat, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck and kissing him back.

"I'm happy you're feeling better," he pulls me in for a hug.

"You're soaking," I laugh, trying to pull myself from his grip, but he only holds on tighter.

"Can't escape that easily Greenie."

"Not the Greenie anymore," I correct, "but seriously Min, let go."

He ignores my latest request, pulling me down onto the bed with him. "You'll always be my shucking Greenie, even if we'll be here for three years. You'll always be new to me."

"I have the resident position as the romantic one. You can be funny, but not sweet. Step off Minho," I'm full out giggling now, trying to pry him off of me. He resists, and I find myself using my legs to try and rip myself from his arms. "If you don't let go of me I'll stab you."

"You're sweet huh?" he jokes. "You couldn't anyway. I'm too pretty to stab."

I roll my eyes. I can't handle him. He plants a kiss on my neck, igniting my will to escape. It's not that his sweat smells bad, because I don't entirely think it does, it's just that he is damp and pretty uncomfortable.

"Seriously," I don't sound serious since only laughter leaves my throat, but I'll be bloody damned if I'm not trying.

The door creaks open, and behind it are Newt and Leo, each with an extra plate of food.

"You're lucky it was us who shucking came back to feed Ella and Ben, and not some other shank," Newt remarks. I can tell he wants to cross his arms over his chest, but he is stuck holding them upright with plates full of food. Instead, he lets out a heavy sigh, before glancing over to Leo.

She doesn't comment, just shakes her head at the pair of us.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting up. He doesn't let go of me, which makes a laugh rip out my throat. "You're just a jealous shank and you know it."

All of this is part of our act, trying to set up Leo and Newt. It doesn't seem to be working though, since both of them just stare at us with blank faces. Almost identical, in their still lips and empty eyes.

"I'm just going to feed Ella, let me know if anybody catches you both, and you get banished." Leo turns around, walking out the room. She heads up the stairs, and Newt turns to follow her.

As he leaves, he shakes his head. "For shuck's sake Min."

Their footsteps slowly disappear over time, and Minho pulls himself out of the bed. He shrugs off his shirt, finding a new one in his drawers. I try desperately not to stare like some shucking idiot.

"Bet you the two of them shack by the end of the week," Minho offers.

I almost laugh at his proposition. "No way. Newt definitely likes boys."

"You can like boys and girls," Minho corrects. "Trust me, he is head over heels. I feel it in my bones."

Yeah sure. He can see me rolling my eyes when he turns around, and he moves closer to me. He kneels on the ground as I sit on the bed, so that I'm slightly taller than him.

"What do you get if you win?" I ask.

"To kiss you," he shrugs.

I laugh, "and if I win."

"You get to kiss the most handsome boy here."

I see the opportunity, dangling in front of me, and I seize. "Newt?"

Minho smiles, leaning in and kissing me.


	11. I could be stronger

Michelle 11

We're standing in a semi circle, waiting for them to bring Ben out. Most of the boys are sullen and silent. If anything, they are whispering about changes. About how Ben never had a violent bone in his body, and how he is convinced the Greenie is going to get us killed. How things are shifting now, since he did get stung when he was practically in the Glade.

Doug is directly behind me. I can hear him gripping and complaining about everything left and right. He blames me just as much as he blames Thomas. I'd hit him if we weren't surrounded by people, and if Winston weren't standing next to me.

Winston smells like klunk, and has beady little eyes. I don't like him very much, and he seems to reciprocate the feeling. At least, from what I can tell, he likes me more than the Greenie.

Dave stands over next to Dawn and the other Cooks, whispering to her. I choose not to focus on him. Instead, I watch Gally from across the circle. He looks over at me, out of the corner of his eyes, before he looks back down at the ground. He doesn't seem to want much to do with me at this rate.

The last of those shuck Runners arrives and Alby calls out amongst us, "get him out here."

Jackson, Billy, and another of those Baggers come out, dragging Ben. He doesn't fight them, but instead lets his whole-body hang limp. The bandages the Med-jacks wrapped around his head are peeling off, maybe from wear and tear or maybe from Ben scratching at his own skin. The side of his face that isn't covered in bandages soaked red has red lines down it, as if he clawed his own face. It wouldn't surprise me if he had. The Changing is not a fun time.

Winston steps away from me, making his way up to Gally and the other Keepers. He finds a spot next to Leo and the Keeper of the Sloppers. Leo stands at attention, biting the inside of her cheek. If they chose her for this, does that mean she is actually a Keeper now? Is she my Keeper, or is that Winston, or is that Gally?

Newt shows up, with a long pole that scrapes as it drags on the ground. A high pitches whistle echoes through the Glade, which is otherwise silent. The pole has a collar at the end. I wonder if it was the one wrapped around my neck. When do they place orders for that kind of klunk? How many do they have on demand for events like this? I heard there were only like, three banishments before I got here anyway, so this is a serious event.

When they drop Ben in front of Alby, he finally carries himself on his own two feet. He doesn't make eye-contact with Alby though. I don't know if Ben knows that Alby knows what Ben has done to us. Maybe that's why Ben seems so upset.

Him attacking Thomas is an excuse for us actually to kick him out. Which, believe me, is good news for me. Maybe now I can leave the Bloodhouses and go back to working with Gally. Not that I prefer Doug and them, but it's no better working for Winston. Honestly, he is a pain in my back, and my front, and my every possible side of me.

"You did this Ben," Alby takes the pole from Newt, turning to face Ben. "Not me."

That's such a shucking loaded sentence. Because the rule on fighting is ridiculous and needs to be abolished, so long as everybody wants to get in a fight, or somebody starts it and the other person fires back. Sure, Ben came at the Greenie unprovoked, so he should be taken down, and sure, he came at Dawn unprovoked so he should be shoved into the Maze, but the rule itself isn't against attacking. It's against fighting, and that's an important distinction.

"Please, please," he begs and begs and begs, and it's pathetic. "I wouldn't have hurt him. I wouldn't have hurt her. I couldn't do that Alby. It was the Changing Alby, please."

There is a slight hiccup of breath beside me, and I turn to face the Greenie. His face is the colour of his name, and I think he might throw up. He must think this is all because of him, right? Nothing is ever because of one thing. This whole shucking mess is a series of coincidences and events in a non-linear format that have nothing to do with one another. There is no collective story or meaning. I have half a mind to tell the Greenie to be less selfish.

This isn't because of you, slinthead. It's because of Ben.

Alby ignores Ben, as he should, and pulls the collar around his neck. It's firm and tight, the last button he clicks practically strangles Ben. Any looser and he'd slip out, and any tighter and he'd choke.

When he is satisfied, he moves back, grabbing a hand on the pole a bit further back. Alby begins to recite words I am all to familiar with.

"Ben of the Builders, you've been sentenced to a banishment for your murder attempts on Thomas the Newbie and Dawn the Cook. The Keepers have decided, and the decision is final. You're going in the Maze, and you ain't returning." He turns away, from whatever he was looking at, to address the crowd. "Keepers, take your spot."

People shift and move around him. It is easy to see from this end exactly what is going on.

Slowly but surely eleven people grab the pole. A few people whisper when they see Leo grab hold of the metal, but it subsides quite quickly. This will be the talk of the month. The rumours before about her shucking Alby are only going to get worse now thanks to this. Not that it matters.

From this angle, it seems quieter. The air feels thick, but everything is less panicky. The Gladers are silent and certain. No one wobbles, no one shouts, and maybe that is what makes this instance different. When they tried to banish me, people were fighting it, but no one fights now.

Maybe it's because those that would speak out know what else Ben has done. We all know for certain that Ben attacked Gladers, and Ben has been here long enough to know better.

I am not quite sure, still, why Minho spoke out in my favour, but I'm glad. Even more so, I'm glad that Dave said he stole the screwdriver. I forgot that I owe him my life.

Ben is crying now, his sobs echoing louder and louder. I'm almost glad he's making a show out of this. His suffering is what he gets for trying to attack me, and for successfully attacking Dawn. I'm not here for bureaucracy, but I'm here for getting one's comeuppance.

"Please," Ben continues to beg. He turns to the crowd now, before locking eyes with me. His face goes even redder, and he begins to struggle. He sticks a grimy finger out at me. "You'll save her, but not me? I couldn't help it. She is evil, and you let her live? You shacking her too?"

Leo flinches but Alby hushes him. "Slim it Ben."

Maybe Leo and Alby are shacking.

"Someone save me, please," he goes back to his hysterics, flashing in and out of his anger. I wish he hadn't mentioned me, since a few boys have inched away from me since his proclamation, like I'm about to explode. I can handle my emotions, unlike some people. "Help me, please!"

"Keepers get ready," Alby just ignores Ben at this point. Everyone's knees bend together, as if they are on unit. As if we all can't sense them fracturing bit by bit. Minho and Alby are fighting, still, because of Ben and Dawn. Gally is ready to fight all of them, and I can tell even Ella and Leo's Keepers have secrets. This is the illusion of strength.

"I won't hurt her again," he cries, looking around for Dawn in the audience. She stares at him, her eyes glossy. Ben spits and slobbers, a mixture of mucus and tears melting across his putrid face. His skin has lost all colour except his veins, so dark they almost look black in the dim lighting. "I won't ever hurt her again, or attack him, or nothing. Please!"

The Walls begin to rumble, and Alby turns to his crew. "Keepers, now!"

The shove forward as Ben struggles. His arms rip at the pole in front of him, and then at his neck as he tries to detach the collar. By the time he is successful, the Keepers have already shoved him into the Maze, and past the Doors. He turns around to see us, one final time as they close behind him.

He lets out an ear-piercing scream, and I notice people's hand flinch up to cover their ears. The sound rips through me too, although with it comes a sense of satisfaction. I have won.

And then it is over.

Gladers begin to peel away from the centre in layers, and I find myself standing still. How could it be over so quickly? Just like that, Ben dies? It's over so soon, and so quickly. I don't think I understand. Past the Walls you can't hear his screams. The louder he cries, the easier it is for the Grievers to find him.

I wish I could still hear him suffer.

It takes me a while to walk away, but I find myself moving back to the new bathroom. It hasn't gotten any large, or built any better, and since it is night now, everything has gone dark. It doesn't seem as though they've made much progress today. This thing will never be built, which makes me kind of glad I'm not working on it.

"You didn't like Ben," Winston is talking to me.

I turn to face him, and he simply crosses his arms over his chest, as if he expects me to continue talking. Or even begin talking.

"Didn't think it was fair for him to call you out," Winston says, "even if I voted you out. Thought the whole ordeal was different."

I'm glad he can be honest with me, and admit he tried to get me killed. He owes me that, anyway.

"I was surprised when Gally changed his vote though," he remarks, leaning against the Homestead. At least, the part that isn't under construction. "Can't say I blame him entirely, though I can't say I don't either."

"Do you have something to say?" I ask him.

He takes a step off the Wall, moving up closer to me. We stand less than a meter apart, so close that I can make out every pore on his face when he speaks. "I thought you deserved the truth. He and Dave have been fighting a lot more lately. I take it that can be attributed to you."

I stare him down, holding my ground. "You can't blame me if they can't keep it in their pants."

He smiles slightly, looking down before looking back up. His mind is operating like a gear shift. He reminds me of Clint, in how observant he is, although he seems much more devious. While Clint knows everything, and keeps all of it secret, Winston throws out information to change the game in his favour.

"Thought you should know they fought before you," he shrugs back slightly, before running a hand along the wood frame beside us. "They used to talk a bit more when Nick was alive."

I take it Nick's death changed the situation, although I don't ask how or why. Winston seems to be offering the information to me, almost to disturb the peace even more. There is no peace, only lies.

"The three of them were just finishing fixing the roof of the Homestead, since some of the panels were falling off, when Nick slipped and fell." Winston knocks on the skeleton beside us, almost illustrating his point in the air. "Alby says it was an accident, but it's been a lot harder since then. I've always wondered if the two of them teamed up to shove Nick off. Thought if you could find out you'd tell me."

At least I know his motives. Maybe he has tried unsuccessfully to figure it out, and since he knows I have at least Gally wrapped around my finger, I can handle it. His intentions are clear and simple anyway. He wants to know, so I find out.

"Dave isn't talking to me," I admit, whispering harshly. "Doubt he would tell me."

Winston simply rolls his eyes. "I'm sure if you bat your eyelashes he'll come crawling back. Dave is a boomerang and a leech, even if he tries not to be."

At this Winston moves abruptly, walking back around the Homestead. "I'm sure you'll tell me once you know anything."


	12. I could be aware

Ella 12

She appears to be asleep, but I don't know how much I am willing to let myself take what she presents as reality. Lying there, still and peaceful. She looks like a trap, luring everyone in. If I wasn't aware (or at this point, gone describes my situation better), I might find myself circling in. It wouldn't surprise me if one of the Med-jacks fell in her whole.

A specific one, actually.

Not that I'm keeping score. I don't want anyone to fall prey to Teresa. Maybe if Thomas sees her again, he'll fall straight back into her icy hold. He did it once before, so I wouldn't be surprised if he did again. I don't like it, at least not as much as I want to.

Her eyes are blue, but ones that are unwelcoming. Both Dawn and Michelle have blue eyes, but there's a different. Dawn's eyes shine, and are sleet. They are a soft baby blue. In contrast, Michelle's eyes scream. Electricity blazes, like fire to match her hair. They are strong-willed and resilient.

Teresa's eyes are hollow. More grey than blue, and yet more white than grey, they are empty. The more I live, the more I realise the absence of colour matters just as much as the existence of colour. Nothing exists behind her eyes, and therefore nothing of her exists. I don't trust her. I don't trust this.

"Are you awake in there?"

I turn to see Clint standing in the doorway, with Jeff standing slightly behind him. Though Clint stares me down, Jeff's head is turned away. He doesn't seem to be able to look at me, as he fiddles with the pockets on his side.

My knees curl up into a ball, as I stare down Clint. He sees me often, and talks to me often, but Leo's absence is somehow upsetting and I wish to be out of this room.

"Listen," he steps in the door, and Jeff continues to cower further back. Almost a shadow to the other boy's movements. Clint continues to move closer to me until he is able to shut the door firmly. "I think I know why you remember."

I know why I remember. When we were escaping, when we were in the dark room, when we were alone, I shot them all. Then, no one was left awake, so I had to do it to myself. Only, my aim was off. Only, the thing I shot into my skull was shot at an angle. Until it is straightened, it can't have complete control over me.

And I'd like to keep it that way, but judging by the way this dialogue is headed, I don't think that is what Clint is intending.

"You can hear me," he can see it in the way my face is flinching, I bet. When he comes closer, I don't know what to do except jump off the bed, to the other side, away from him. I can't over-power him, and he's the kind of guy who once something has gotten in his head, there is no stopping him. "Have you figured out about the chip?"

Swipe.

I hear the beginning to a conversation I've heard before.

I walk in the room, to finally face him. Not entirely sure if I am going to dangle my plan in his face, or fight him, or what.

"So you've heard I'm leaving?"

He knows I wouldn't come to talk to him again, after our last fight. It's been almost a year since we last spoke. Then, we argued about the Beetle Blades. "I wouldn't come except to say good-bye."

"Didn't think you'd want to say good-bye." He chuckles, his dark brown hair is swept back meticulously.

I didn't. I don't. I want to tell him we are going up. I want to rub it in his face. "Paige is going to give you the Swipe."

He is surprised that I cut right to the chase. He shakes his head at me. "I already have it implanted in my head, as part of the trial. I guess you won't, at this rate. They're sending up Rachel as the last member of Group B. The eight of you won't go up."

We will go up, because they will be forced to duplicate our actions. They can't have one trial differ from the other.

"She's going to turn it on," I correct. "She isn't going to let you live with that thing in your head, with everything that matters to you intact. Her goal is to strip you of everything.."

He seems slightly taken aback, like he doesn't believe me. I don't believe him, so it's a wonder he is surprised.

"She said I could go in without the Swipe." He shakes his head out of disagreement. "I even got her to agree to it."

I tune back in, and Clint is holding on to my wrist, behind my back. He put me down on the mattress. It is difficult to breathe with the sheets in my mouth. It is hard to breathe with him hanging over me like this. My chest is heaving.

I roll onto my back, so he can't access the base of my neck. He can't cut me open if I don't let him.

"Ella, please," he begins, looking at me. "I am going to stop your seizures once and for all. Isn't that what you want?"

I look over to Jeff, but he stands still and complacent. Clint doesn't want to fight me. He simply wants this to be easy.

"If you put it in properly, I'll forget all of it," I tell him, actually finding the will to speak. "I'll lose my memories of Thomas, and Teresa, and everybody else."

Clint lets go of me, sitting up.

He just let go. I slowly find myself sitting up, so that I match him in height. His face lies just in front of mine, and he stares at me as he speaks.

"Listen Ella, I don't want to hurt you," he sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not trying to move it to the right spot. I want to see if I can take it out."

It's not going to be that easy. It's connected to my own brain. It's not something you can just take in and out like a sliver. Which is why I back further away from him, towards the door.

"You can't even try," I tell him. I don't need the Creators to control me for me to try and get him to fight off. "This is a bad idea."

Once I get to the door, Jeff blocks me. He swiftly moves me to the bed, holds my arms down as Clint lifts the sleeve and punctures me with a needle. There is no use in fighting now. He tosses the needle in the trash.

"I'm sorry, but this needs to happen," he tells me plain and simply.

My feet give way beneath me. The floor is closing in around me. Clint is not going to be able to remove the Swipe. He's going to kill me trying, or realign it. Either way, I will forget the Violet girl.

So, I cling to her with every possible thought as I succumb to the unconscious agony of operation.


	13. I could be saving

Leo 13

Ella is still unconscious, but I drop both plates I had brought upstairs next to the table, in case she wakes up in the middle of the night.

"I doubt she'll be awake in the morning," Clint had followed me up here, to talk to me privately while Jeff took a shower. "We gave her some pretty heavy stuff."

"She thought you were who, exactly?" His arms are covered in bandages. She scratched him so hard he started bleeding. The white fabric is fraying at the edges, and the blood has seeped through the material in a few spots. Whenever we are outside, he keeps his sleeves rolled down. No one can know about her fit, because she could be banished for her violence. If Ben gets no excuse out of the Changing, than neither can she.

Although, the rules don't apply the same across the board. They are fluid and changing.

"A creator," it's a simple sentence, one that he says without looking at me. Clint heads over to the cupboard, pulling out a clean needle. He takes the yellow bottle out as well, before filling the vile. He puts a stop on the end before carefully handing it to me. "Attach it to your belt."

"Why?" If Ella is out, then there is no threat anymore.

He gives me a soft face, and I understand what he means. It's not Ella he is worried about attacking me.

"Bring her the other plate. It won't do her good to be taken out with low blood sugar," at least he is polite and concerned about her well-being. I wonder if he knows, and how long he has known if he does. Now isn't the time to ask. He checks his watch carefully. "It'll need to be done in a few minutes. Better it is done before she gets out of hand anyway. Before she hurts anyone."

I nod. The vile is cold in my hand, but I tuck it under my belt anyway. It touches my skin, as do most of the medical supplies I carry.

With a nod of my head, I grab the extra plate and head out the door.

She sits at the West door. I take it they still aren't back. From the way Clint was talking, I don't think they are going to come back. Minho and Alby are going to die out there tonight.

Apparently, there was a dead Griever. I've been told they went first thing this morning to check it out. There has been no sign of them in hours, and the Doors are closing in minutes.

Newt is pacing back and forth. Even though his bad leg obviously hurts he moves quickly. His face is much whiter than it normally is, and his hair sticks up in different directions. If it were Dawn and Michelle out there, I'd feel the same. His two best friends, one of whom he loves, seem to have disappeared. I doubt they will return.

Once I walk up, I sit down next to Dawn, passing her the food. She glances at it, then flips it upside down in a swift movement. The food falls on the ground, and she drops the plate on top of it.

"I'm not eating," she tells me. "Go away."

Fry-pan was the one who asked me to bring her the food. She wouldn't accept it from him, and shouted at Dave when he got close to her. I get the feeling Fry-pan and Dave have figured it out, but I hope everyone else just assumes she is upset because her and Minho are friends. Just like her and I, in more ways than I care to admit.

"Ok Michelle," I try to crack a bit of a joke, but I know she won't take it. Although she is entirely here for making fun of Michelle, she isn't entirely here.

Her hands grip the grass, her dishevelled hair falling in her face. He was supposed to be back hours ago. Dinner has come and gone, and there is no Minho. For all we know, he is already shucking dead. Newt was the one who told me about the Griever's corpse. I guess in the end of it, they'll be dead and we are the grievers here. Left waiting for them.

Dawn glances up at me, biting her lip. Her face is sheer ghostly. I have half a mind to give her the sedative now. She needs it.

"He was supposed to come back," she tells me. "It's not like there was warning. He was here and he was gone. It's not like Ben."

I don't know that it is better to know someone is going to leave. To watch one slip away is to die with them, slowly day by day. Knowing and preparing is worse than a sudden disappearance. Here, there are unanswered questions, and songs unsung. Here, there is hope. The alternative is agony.

"If I had known, I would've said good-bye," she tells me. "I would've let him tease me more, and I would've kissed him in front of everyone, shuck the rules."

She is much braver than I am. Or perhaps, she is spiralling out of control. Lately it's been hard to tell.

Either way, I didn't want it to end like this. Although part of me wanted him gone, I didn't want him dead. I wanted him moved slightly to the left.

I feel guilty, trying to be here for her. So very guilty, since I can't help feeling like I have ulterior motives.

There is no point in consoling Newt as he paces. Trying to calm him will only make him detonate. I can tell by the way he moves above us, and by the hitch in his breath. Until the Doors close, I can do no good for him.

"Don't go up there Greenie, or I'll bash your shuck head in." I can hear Michelle storming up behind us. She obviously is talking to someone else. "You too, slinthead."

I turn around to notice Chuck and Thomas creeping up on our group. Great, as if the situation couldn't get worse. Thomas manages to show up every time there is disaster, it seems. I feel bad for the fellow, but I can see Dawn's glares. Ben tried to kill the two of them, and of course he is here when Minho disappears forever.

"They've got to be back," Newt's voice croaks, and I'm on my feet moving to him. He's crumbling sooner than I thought.

"We can send out people to look," Thomas offers.

Dawn is on her feet, standing to turn and face him. Her sickly colour has been replaced by a red fire, and she hurls. "You don't think I'd shucking be in there looking?"

Michelle shoves past the Greenie, and moves past me. Stopping next to Dawn, her fingers twitch at the girl's side. Michelle is ready to pounce and stop her if she attacks the Greenie. I wouldn't be surprised if she did, but I'm shocked Michelle would prevent the violence. Perhaps she too knows this isn't what Dawn wants. This thing before me, that is spitting fire, is not Dawn.

"You're bloody shuckin-" Newt stops, and restarts the sentence as gears turn in his head. "We can't. No shucking way. The Doors are closing soon, and it's against the shuckin' rules."

Thomas doesn't take that for an answer, stepping closer. "So? Aren't there those Grievers out there? They'll die if-"

"We shucking know that!" Dawn takes a step forward, and this is where Michelle grabs her arm.

Newt is just as red as Dawn. I don't hold him back though, since his feet are planted firmly on the ground, and there is no use to it. If Newt wants to beat the shuck out of the Greenie, he's going to. I could sedate him, but at this point I'm saving that for Dawn. Newt couldn't explode. He's too grounded.

"Slim it Greenie. You don't think I'd die for those shanks?" Newt isn't angry. He is upset. He is yelling at Thomas, but more so he is yelling at the Glade. He has tears in the corner of his eyes. "You don't think I'd be out there if it mattered?"

Thomas's face falls, and he breathes lightly. "That's not what I meant."

"Tommy," Newt begins to address the boy, his voice finally giving way to the tears.

I'm not going to let Newt talk right now. He needs to be thinking and feeling, and not protecting Thomas. So instead, I move away from Newt, and away from Dawn and Michelle, and towards Thomas. I grab hold of him, forcing him to turn around and face me. "Listen Thomas, it's complicated. If they aren't back, there isn't anything we can do. Minho and Alby know what they are facing going in there. There are days when boys don't come back. Just last month it was Stephen."

"We all take the same oath," Newt tells him. "You'll take it too. We don't go in the Maze at night. Ever."

No one speaks for a few seconds, because nearly everyone here has broken one of the major rules. Newt and I are fine, since we just covered up a mess, but Thomas doesn't need to know that. Going out there, this close to the end, is suicide.

"Newt won't say it," Chuck speaks up, gulping down at Michelle's glare, "but if they aren't back, they aren't coming back. Minho's too good of a Runner. They aren't lost."

Chuck turns and walks away. He can have the time to move off and mourn, but we are stuck here. In the silence.

"They're dead," Dawn affirms it, breathing in lightly. Michelle has an arm wrapped around her back, in a gesture that looks comforting to the naked eye. I know Michelle too well though. If she is holding her like that, it is because Dawn is going to attack somebody, or she is going to fall over. The latter, at this junction, seems more likely.

"That's why we aren't going out there," Newt sighs. "No use dying over the dead."

Thomas soaks in the silence, taking it all in. I feel bad for the poor kid. All he seems to want to do is help, even though at every corner he tries, people are screaming and shouting in his face. I wish I could comfort him. He'd make a good Med-jack. I'll ask Clint to let me train him. Thomas is supposed to spend the day with us soon enough anyway.

"We've got two minutes," Newt looks up from his watch, turning around to face the Doors. He gives them one final look, before he begins walking away.

I can hear Dawn's breathing. I ignore everyone until I am at her side. My hand lies carefully on my waist, while the other is around the small of her back. She is crying, now, out loud, for everyone to hear. Maybe I won't have to use the sedative after all. Michelle and I begin to carry her away.

The Doors boom, signalling the end of the night. Dawn's sobs break louder, and she is crying now. I can do nothing but concentrate on her. She is falling over, but Michelle and I are holding her upright. Or at least, struggling to. Supporting her is like holding sand.

We make it all the way to the porch of the Homestead, although we are huffing and puffing. Newt is waiting for us. His hand is on the railing, and the other is perch to help Dawn. He places an arm under her as well, helping us help her. I place my hand on the railing, on top of his hand, and his eyes meet mine.

I wish I could tell him its fine, but I can't instead. We stare at each other, soft faces.

Michelle's head flies backwards. She stares over at the Greenie, and I turn my head. He is moving closer to the Doors, staring out into them.

"Newt!" It's Thomas screaming. "I can see them!"

Newt drops Dawn, and begins running towards Thomas. His feet fly out beneath him. It only takes Dawn a second to catch her breath before she is running after Newt as well.

It is Michelle who is next to follow, and I lag behind.

Newt isn't fast enough with his limp. Dawn is quick to pass him, then Michelle, and finally I leave Newt behind. I can see into the West Door. At the very end of the tunnel lies Minho, dragging Alby's body behind him. He is desperately trying to make it.

Minho is too far away.

Then, he falls, and that is it.

Dawn isn't giving up though, she only runs faster. My feet pound farther and farther. I need to stop her or she'll die.

I pass Michelle, who's fingers reach for Dawn. Tackling the latter girl, she screams beneath me. Her hands fighting off mine. Michelle is behind me, holding her wrists down, and I sit on her legs.

"Stop! Stop!" She screams. I lift up the sleeves of her shirt, though she screeches. The needle goes in her arm, and though she continues to fight my grip on her loosens. It's only a matter of time before she is unconscious, given the mass of the injection.

Newt passes us as he continues running. "Don't go in the shuckin' Maze! Tommy!"

I shove past Michelle, who continues to hold Dawn down, to see Thomas at the Doors staring down the barrel of a gun. He's going to run. He's going to do it.

"Stop!" There is no use in trying. They aren't going to make it.

"Help them!" Dawn cuts me off, calling out to Thomas.

Thomas runs in, and the Doors shut behind him.

Newt is screaming, and a crowd has gathered. He screams, and screams and screams, and I leave Dawn to Michelle, running up to him.

I have nothing left to sedate him, so I take his hands in mine. He rips me out of his grip, shouting. "They're all shucking dead. Don't try to calm me down Leo! There all dead! All of them!"

I grab hold of Newt once more, and begin dragging him with me. He isn't willing to listen, still moving back and forth, shoving me off over and over. I grab him, and shake him once. "Freak out in the Homestead, where you don't scare the shuck out of Chuck!"

Newt seems to have a moment of clarity, as his chest stops heaving. He lets me lead him back to the Homestead. Clint, Jeff, and Michelle are already carrying Dawn's unconscious body up the stairs and inside the building, and Newt and I are quick to follow.

I am thankful that the gathering crowd keeps its distance. The few Keepers that are left manage to hold off the masses of Gladers that are gathering around us. They must be worried about their futures. No one knows who will move up to be second-in-command, as Minho was supposed to take the role if Alby died. No one knows what is going to happen to the Runners.

No one knows who is going to look for the bodies in the morning.

I dump Newt down on his bed upstairs. He is inconsolable, lying down in a sprawl, sobbing mess. I sit next to him, and carefully place a hand on his back.

He sits up, and moves into the corner. He sits like this for a while, and while I want to check on Dawn I don't want to leave him. Newt needs me here and now. He stops crying eventually, probably since his tears are even giving me a headache. There is no water on his nightstand, so I get up to grab him some.

He grabs my wrist. "Don't go. Please don't go."

I sit back down on the bed, letting my feet dangle off. He moves down next to me, his knee touching mine. I let his head rest on my shoulder, and let his arm snake around my back. He needs me here as a friend.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. I am sorry. If I had let Dawn run in, maybe our combined efforts could've gotten Minho and Alby out. Maybe they'd all be alive, including Thomas.

"I hate my shucking bum leg." He proclaims, smashing a fist off it before putting his head in his hands. "I shucking hate that I did this to myself."

I don't try to pry him off himself, or ask what he means. Now isn't the time to question him about his limp. I don't know what now is the time to do.

"If I'd been faster, maybe I could've-" he stops, breathing into his fists. Trying to make sense of this isn't going to work. There is no sense.

I am upset Alby and Minho are dead too, but I push that aside for him. He doesn't need my feelings right now. I concentrate on him. There is no healing for those that have died. From here on out, there is only a future.

"Minho was my best friend," he begins. "That bloody Greenie didn't deserve it either."

"I couldn't stop him," I try to speak, feeling my voice crack. Maybe once Michelle had Dawn, I should've run after Thomas. If anyone could've stopped him, it was me.

"I never even told him I loved him," he is crying again. "I never got to tell Alby."

He knew. We talked about it once. Alby would've thought Newt had feelings for me, if he hadn't known Newt had feelings for Alby. "Alby knows you did."

Newt looks up at me. His face is red, and so are his eyes. "What?"

"He told me when he put me in the Slammer," my voice is but a whisper. "He knows."

Newt almost laughs, but it turns into a frustrated gargle. "So great. He knows and doesn't care. As if it could get shucking worse."

"At least he knows," I tell him.

Newt stares at me, before getting up off the bed. He paces around his room for a second, before turning to me. "What the shuck do you know about it?"

"What?" I demand, turning to face him.

"What do you know about loving someone?" He demands. "What do you know about losing people?"

I stand up now. He is just upset, and I know it, but I feel a fire burning in my chest. What do I know about loving? What do I know about losing?

I cross my arms over my chest. "Newt, calm down."

"Don't shucking-" he steps closer to me, balling his fists at his side. "You don't get to pretend you get it. You don't get to sit here and tell me you understand. I loved Alby, and he doesn't didn't love me back, and now he is dead, and you can't just-"

"I am in love with Dawn," it hurts to spit it out. I hate the words. They are so juvenile, and so childish. "But she doesn't like me, and I bet you she knows."

Newt doesn't answer. Instead his face calms and his fists lower, and he is standing directly in front of me.

I can't stop the rest from spilling out. "And for so long I hated Minho because I wanted to be with her and he got the chance, and I didn't. And she'll hate me forever, and I'll hate me forever, because he's dead. So no, I don't get it, but I don't not understand. It's not the same, but it's not different, Newt."

He continues to stare at me. Eyes locking with mine, I feel my heart flutter, like it's done for Dawn a hundred times before. I like Dawn, and I like Newt, but it doesn't matter because neither of them is interested in girls.

"I'm sorry," Newt is holding onto me at the waist. I realise I've been shifting left and right, and I'm about to fall over.

I lean into him, until our foreheads are together. It's just us after all in this Glade, trapped here. We can't escape no matter how hard we try.

I'm kissing him.

Our mouths are on each other, but I don't remember how it happened. I'm feeling so dizzy.

Newt pulls away from me. A kiss that is over as quickly as it has begun.

He takes a step back from me, giving me one last look before he runs out the door.


	14. I could be secretive

Dawn 14

We are running from Grievers, Minho and I. Sprinting as fast as we can through the Maze, inches from the Doors which are shutting. There grey rock scrapes across the ground, causing the entire earth to crumble, and my own very heart to erupt into chaos. I make it through, my arms scraping through the gap, and turn around to see him. A Griever catches up to Minho, half a meter to freedom, and he is ripped backwards. His body, ripped in half. Torn into shreds, as if he were as thick as paper. I am screaming. This is a dream, I can feel it around me. But for some reason, I can't shake the feeling that when I wake up, he'll be dead all the same.

The world is coming in and out in hues of a rainbow of colour. I wake up, still screaming. My heart is racing, and I am up on my feet.

I am in Minho's room, standing on his floor in the clothing I wore yesterday. Sweat sits on my skin, already warm from the panic coursing through my veins. Minho isn't anywhere to be found.

That's because he is dead.

The door opens and shuts. It's Michelle that has walked through the door, although I barely pay any attention to her. I can't seem to think.

"You done your crying yet?" She asks me.

I can feel tears leaking behind my eyes, although I offer no response. Minho is still dead, and I am still powerless. I feel too exhausted to cry. I still feel numb all over my body. It's not an absence, and it's not a nothing. My whole body weighs down with a dull ache. I don't know how anything could be worse. There is nothing but suffering.

"Heard you screaming," she tells me. "Clint said you'd be out for most of today due to the sedative. Nasty nightmare."

"He's dead." I say, the words making my tongue taste putrid. I turn to stare out the window. The Doors are open, nobody gathering around them. Someone needs to be waiting for him. I know it sounds crazy, but I need to see his body. This can't be the last he is gone. We were just laughing last week. We were just smiling together. It can't be over.

"Just opened now," Michelle calls out to me, seeing where I am looking. "Nothing out there, so it's not like last time at least. Nobody's running today anyway. Nobody's really doing much of anything."

I turn away from the window, dropping on to the floor. Leaning forward, I feel vomit rise in the back of my throat. I vomit all over the floor, a dark brown bile spilling out on the already brown floor.

Michelle groans, leaning forward and lifting my hair away from my face, even though part of it already is dirty.

I get up, swaying. "Don't tell Lee."

"Like I need that shank to worry," Michelle rolls her eyes. She throws my hair down, walking out of the room.

I don't know how long I stand there, kneeling above my own vomit. Staring at the mess I've made. Eventually, Michelle comes back in the room. With a wet cloth, she carelessly beats my hair, until it is clean. She pulls me away from the mess, handing me a glass of water.

"Would you just drink?" She asks.

I nod, leaning against the wall behind me. It's a struggle to raise the glass to my lips, and when I swallow I can't help but feel my stomach sink. Michelle only rolls her eyes. When I'm done, she rips the glass from my grip.

I don't know what to say anymore. Instead of talking, I walk past her and out the door. She follows me. Out Minho's door, out the Homestead, and towards the West Door. Towards where I last saw Minho. If they aren't looking for him, I'll find his body before it's old and rotten. We'll bury him. He deserves that.

He wouldn't want to rot under the stars. We have spent so much time together in the Deadheads; I know he would want to be there. He would want me to be able to visit him, late at night, in the same spot we used to kiss.

See, I thought my body was a corpse, until I realised my love is one.

"I get your pissed," she continues to say, although she must not get it if she is still coming closer. "But at least beat the klunk out of me and not Leo. She was in hysterics last night. Don't know if I can put up with her much longer."

I hate that Michelle is making this about her.

"I could've saved them," I toss behind me.

I can still hear her feet moving towards me. "Don't act like you're the shucking Queen. You think Minho would be happy that you're dead too?"

At this I turn around. My feet move for her, and my fist swings, but she spins me around and pins my hand behind my back. Her weight pressed against mine, and though I've got a couple inches on her, I find myself on the verge of falling to the ground. I struggle against her, to no avail. She whispers in my ear. "You get a free pass this time, since you're all shucked off and klunk, but swing at me again and I'll break your shucking wrist."

She lets go of me, sending me tumbling forward. My fists hit the ground, palms caught in the dirt. She's right that I'm all shucked off, but I still wish I could take her. My muscles ache, from the energy that was supposed to explode out them last night. I was supposed to chase after him, and run in the Maze, and find him. Instead, I was sedated.

I'm still angry as klunk at Leo. They tackled and sedated me. At least Michelle doesn't expect a thank-you out of it. She understands her place here, even if I can't wrap my head around mine. The girlfriend of the dead Keeper of the Runners.

I don't know that Minho would be alive if I had chased after him. If I had run in there, he'd still probably be dead, with me too. Doesn't mean I am happy about it. At least then I could say I did something, instead of just twiddling my thumbs like a slinthead. Lying down, paralysed and unconscious.

Somehow, I find the will to stand.

Michelle continues to follow me anyway, even though I want her to leave me alone. "Did Leo put you up to this?"

She shakes her head, finally catching up to me. "She felt like klunk about the whole thing, but not like I give a shuck. I'm doing it to piss off David."

That makes some sense. Michelle wouldn't do anything to help someone, if it wasn't to harm someone else. I catch myself laughing, and feel sick at the thought. How can I laugh when there are still tears in my eyes? How can I laugh before he is buried? "Why? You think Dave's in love with me?"

"He wants to think I'm a bad person," Michelle rolls her eyes. "If you can't beat them, piss them off."

Don't know where I heard that old proverb before, but I don't think that is how it goes. Not that I particularly care. I still can't feel much of anything accept drowsiness. The drugs can do that. Everything is blurring together, which I don't mind. I don't want the clarity to think about Minho's death. Whenever I do, my chest compresses and the plants at my feet die. I wonder if that's why Michelle can beat me so easily in a fight.

I arrive at the West door. Newt is here, alone. His eyes are blood shot. I doubt he got much sleep last night. He doesn't look like he wants to be first-in-command. I forget that Alby was out there too. Even if I wasn't his biggest fan, Alby was a decent person. He meant well, and I guess meant a lot to Newt.

It's supposed to be Minho who took over as First, not the boy before me, who reeks of desperation and who's hair stands up in every direction. For some reason, they won't let Newt take the power. Minho's dead though.

"Come get breakfast shanks," Michelle sighs, gesturing for us to get up. "Fry'll have your heads in if you don't."

I can't seem to get myself going, but Michelle herds me off. Newt treads after her, a ghost reluctantly haunting. I don't know how long it'll be before I eat. Minho's dead and gone. He's dead, and dead and dead, and gone.

We're back at the Homestead, where I started this whole thing, but it's of no use. I think I might be sick. I've felt nauseous a lot lately, and I wouldn't be surprised if I threw up again.

Michelle jerks her head suddenly, staring behind me. I follow her gaze and I see Minho and the Greenie moving in. Tired, shaking, sweaty, and alive. My legs freeze beneath me. This has to be a dream. His head is down, eyes averted as he stares at the ground. The weight of the world on his shoulders. Newt begins to move over to them, and I am running.

I sprint as fast as I can. Minho sees me. One of his arms is on the Greenie, as they press their weight into each other in a solidarity I have never seen before in the two, but he lets go to move towards me. I grab hold of him, jumping into his arms and kissing him.

He is alive. He is alive. He is alive.

I grip his shirt, pulling him into me, and he grasps me with all the weak force he can. His mouth moves against mine, his hands finding my hair and pulling me in. I never thought I would feel him again. His whole body warms me, from the inside out. I can feel him everywhere.

I stop to breathe, my forehead against his, and he laughs. He pulls me in around him, tightly, and I him. His skin is really, and sweaty, and rough, and all alive. There is blood in his cheeks, as they flush. His eyes have bags, but they are bright and alive. I can't let go of him.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he can't breathe, as he pulls me in closer. The very idea steals the air from his lungs.

"I thought you were dead," I muster, panting.

"I thought I was dead," he agrees.

"For shuck's sake Min, we all thought you were dead."

I leap off Minho, turning around. Newt is staring at us, and he sports a large scowl under the bags that weigh down his skin. Michelle stands next to him, rolling her eyes, actively. I wonder how long she has been doing that. We seem to have drawn the attention of several Gladers, feet away. Both shocked that they are alive, and shocked that we are together.

Klunk. I wasn't thinking.

"How did you bloody-"

"We need to get Alby," Thomas cuts Newt off, looking at Minho questioningly. "We need to get Alby down."

He lived too? "Alby was stung." Minho jumps in, when he sees Newt's interest peek.

"He livin'?" Newt steps closer to Thomas, peering around.

I turn to look for Michelle, but she is gone. She's climbing up into the Homestead, looking for something. Probably the Med-jacks. Minho and Thomas don't look good. Their skins are grey, and they both have cuts in their skin. The pair of them can barely stand. I don't give a shuck though.

Minho takes my hand, squeezing it.

"Just look," Thomas steps back into the Maze, staring up the Wall. I jog in to look, the other boys moving slowly behind me.

Alby is hanging off the Wall by vines. His skin is almost translucent. Looks like a hanging corpse. At this point, he probably is one.

"Did he die?" Newt is the first to ask, staring up.

Minho stares up with me, an arm around my waist. I guess we are done hiding. The whole Glade has probably heard by now that he's back, unharmed, and shacking me. I'm kind of glad at this point. No more secrets.

"He was fine last time I was here," the Greenie jumps in. "I hung him up."

"You hung him?" Newt asks, turning to face the dark haired boy

"Is that Alby?" Leo stands on the very edge of the Maze, unwilling to enter. Her hair is a mess, and her skin paler than usual. I guess I get what Michelle meant, when she said Leo had a bad night. She looks the same as Newt. "Who got him up there? Minho?"

"Thomas saved his life," Minho has finally managed to find the strength to talk. I can feel his words vibrating against my chest, since we stand so closely. "Saved mine too.

Leo stares at us, then shoots me a look. Don't think she knows that the cat's out of the bag. My bad, honestly. I did mess that one up. I gesture for her to enter, and she tentatively places a foot over edge.

"Go clean up and rest yourself, you two look bloody awful," Newt is talking to Minho and Thomas. "Don't want to hear anymore klunk until you're better. Good that?"

They nod at Newt, begin moving out. I can't just let them go.

I pull Thomas into a hug, turning away from Newt and Leo. The boy seems surprised. He seems, if anything, more tired than Minho. There is a fall to his walk, and a slip to his words.

"I'm sorry for being such a slinthead early. Thank you, Thomas." I manage, tethering myself to him.

The boy stiffens, and when I let him go, I notice his whole face has flushed with colour. He shakes his head back and forth. "It was nothing."

"Thank you," I repeat, playfully shoving him. He smiles, even though its weak.

"Don't give him all the credit," Minho counters, rolling his eyes. "I also kept myself alive."

My eyebrows flatten, and I turn to face Minho. "I'll beat the klunk out of you before I thank you for being alive."

"Don't give me any ideas," he laughs. "It isn't right to tease me with my greatest fantasy when I am this tired."

I can't help but roll my eyes, playfully shoving him. At least he manages to hold his ground.

"Dawn," Newt calls me over. "Since you're so good at climbing the Walls, you should come help me get Alby down." It's a pointed call, and there is an angry quip in his tone.

I give Minho a quick kiss on the lips, shuck everyone who is looking, and back away. He reaches for my hand, and squeezes it, before following Thomas to the Homestead.

I walk past Newt and Leo, who are stiffly and silently waiting for my help. My feet find themselves in the grooves of the Walls, pulling myself up. Alby's only ten metres up, I'd guess, but it looks like forever. It's the highest I've climbed before.

I'm careful to pull myself up to his height, metre by metre. It isn't a particularly hard process, especially since all the strong vines have been pulled free from the Wall by Thomas when he tied Alby up here. I reach the height, staring down at the two of them.

"How do you expect me to drop him without killing him?" I ask, staring down. "I can't carry him. Do you have a net?"

Leo is climbing up behind me to help me. She's much slower than I am though. I saw her climb once before, but I didn't think she'd get this high up. "Newt's getting boys to help hold a blanket. Like a parachute of sorts."

"I don't know that I can drop a shank 10 meters onto a target," I warn, looking up at Alby. He looks so ashy from here.

Leo shrugs, having finally climbed up another metre beneath me. She has a pocket knife in her hand that she is holding out to me. "Can you cut him down?"

I nod, taking the knife. Newt arrives with a sheet of fabric, and a few Gladers follow in after him with a mattress before she can climb all the way down. They place the mattress down on the ground, and all six of them each take a side of the sheet, holding it up.

"Can you jump it, Leo?" Fry-pan asks.

"Are you shucked?" She asks, clinging onto the vines tighter. "No way am I jumping that."

"We need to see if it's tight enough," Fry-pan continues. "You're our test run."

Dave slaps him, cutting him off. "You're not even twenty feet up. If we can hold you up successfully, we can probably handle Alby. If we can't, we have the mattress. You'll be fine."

Newt remains oddly silent, and he averts his gaze from us. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he does like girls. But why would that make him all quiet all of a sudden?

"You couldn't pay me," Leo continues.

"Lee, come on," I call down to her. "Just jump, please?"

She looks up at me, sighing, before letting go. She screams, and screams all the way down. The boys manage to catch her though, in the tight fabric. They set her down on the ground, her screams abruptly stopping, and she gets off the fabric.

"I'm never letting you slintheads do that ever again," she calls out.

A few of the Builders begin laughing at this, while Newt again stays oddly silent.

"You still love me, Leo?" Frankie calls out, sticking his head to the side.

Leo shoots him a finger, and I find myself whooping and laughing along with them.

"Could you shanks hold it together for shucking once?" Newt demands, and everybody quiets down. "Just let us know when you are good Dawn."

I start by cutting off the vines around his legs. They are thick enough to hold him up, so it takes a bit of sawing. When I cut off his wrist, the other vines snap, and we both go falling to the ground.

I am screaming as I fall through the air. I land on the fabric, which rips and tears as the boys try to hold onto it. We fall to the ground, Alby and I next to each other.

My back groans in pain, but everything else seems fine. The wind wasn't even knocked out of me. At least it braced my fall.

"You alright?" Fry is crouching down next to me as Leo examines Alby.

"Careful," Frankie calls out, "if you touch her Minho'll have your head in."

"He's breathing," she begins. "We need to get him inside."

I move off the sheet, thankful for the mattress underneath it. Without hesitating, the boys carry Alby off into the Glade. Someone will be back later to pick up the mattress, I decide, since my back hurts too much to try and lift it.

Leo is off as well, doting over Alby.

It's just Newt and I alone. He seems exhausted.

"I'm sorry for kissing Minho." I blurt out.

Newt turns to me, staring. He rubs his eyes, looking at his hands before finally staring at me. He looks as though I could blow hard enough to knock him over. "I don't blame you. I get it." He sighs again, turning to walk away. "Sometimes you just can't help yourself, even when the timing is wrong."


	15. I could be harder

Michelle 15

Alby is still screaming.

I get he's going through the Changing, and it sucks and whatever, but its been like eight shucking hours and he hasn't shut it yet. Like, can't they just sedate him or something? I'm going to lose it. There has never been a point where I've been closer to beating the shuck out of somebody.

"I don't shucking like him," Gally is pacing around the Bloodhouses. He's halted construction for the day, and I don't think I blame him. There is no way anyone is ever going to finish that bathroom. From what Gally says, Dave has been hanging around the Kitchen more lately, so it is essentially him and a couple of slintheads trying to build the klunk thing.

"Nobody is asking you to like him," Winston continues to cut up the pig. If he doesn't, we aren't having lunch tomorrow. Other than tending to the animals, this is all the work he's doing for the day. With all the klunk that's been happening, it's given everyone a great excuse not to work.

Winston is starting to grow on me, I guess. He is still sweaty, and still has beady little eyes and the moustache of a man who's trying to prove something about his masculinity. Still, at least he is decent company, and holds normal opinions. Even though I know he is up to something.

"Well, asking me not to kill the Greenie is basically the same thing," Gally counters, crossing his arms over his chest, and planting his feet on the floor.

"You're such a shucking baby," I roll my eyes from where I sit on the counter. My feet hang limply over the edge, my arms crossed across my chest. "He saved Alby's life."

Gally can't seem to handle himself. Whether he hates the girls, or Dave, or the Greenie, he's got to hate somebody. Not that I don't think the Greenie is evil; he probably is. Such a sniveling little brat.

Gally has a problem though, as far as I can tell. He's obsessive, and Winston doesn't help the situation. He does the only thing Winston can do: aggravate.

"Which is suspicious," Winston agrees with Gally. "Nobody survives out there, and the shucking Greenie does? Smells worse than the cow's pen."

"I bet you he's one of the Creators." Gally suggests, glaring at me. "And who are you to shucking call me a baby for wanting to murder the guy? You're the one who got Ben killed."

"Ben got Ben killed," I argue back, sliding off the counter. "I just encouraged."

Winston shakes his head. He's done with the pig, so he's putting it on a plate so someone can bring it to the Kitchen. "Ben was a good shank. Bit of a tool, yeah, but he was a good Runner."

"Ben tried to force Dawn and me to shack him. Blackmailed Dawn with the Minho stuff. Klunk guy."

Winston shrugs again, but Gally remains silent. Shanks, both of them. I didn't want Winston to know I got Ben killed, but apparently Gally trusts the guy. Winston's one of the only Keepers who sides with Gally frequently (besides the Keeper of the Baggers, but I don't talk to him). I wish Gally would keep better company than with sleazy shanks who hate women.

Although, Gally is a sleazy shank who hates women, so whatever.

"Ben's dead now anyway. Would be one way or another." Winston points out.

I guess that's fair. Now that Minho and Dawn are public, they'd probably tell everybody what Ben did. He'd be banished despite all the trouble. Maybe now I can stop hanging out with Winston and go back to the Builders.

Honestly, sometimes I think I'd rather hang out with Doug than this guy. It's not often. Just sometimes.

"Let's just hope they banish Minho and the Greenie." Gally continues walking.

I mean, I'm all for the Greenie disappearing. He's so annoying, all bright eyed and curious, and risking his life for shanks. The kid is an idiot for sure. I'm a little hesitant over Minho. Not that he and I are on good terms, but he's only a bit of a shank. He did end up helping me, even if a little bit. Not enough to enjoy him, but enough to tolerate.

"Yeah, and let's hope they banish, Dawn, Newt, Leo, me, you and Dave while we're at it," I roll my eyes. "Never gonna happen."

"You known long?" Winston moves to the sink and begins washing his hands. There is a pause before he uses the soap, where he looks back at me. His eyes are as dark as ever, and if I had less resolve I'd shiver.

I shrug. "Maybe a couple weeks."

He nods at this, drying his hands. Gally has finally stopped pacing to give me a look, but he continues. I was supposed to tell him that I knew Minho and Dawn were shacking, but Dave talked me out of it. That whole thing was a bit of a fiasco.

I wish Dave would pop into the Bloodhouses more often to pick up the meat. Then I could give him the cold shoulder more. He thinks that after all this he gets to turn me down? Should've told him I've been shacking Gally behind his back this whole time.

I think Gally knows I have been seeing Dave, although he can't exactly confirm it. I don't need him to be anymore possessive and vulnerable than he already is.

I don't even know why we are in here. Dinner has already come and gone, so I just want to go to bed.

"I'm heading out," I move over to the corner of the room, announcing it to the pair of them. "Have fun creating some plot to spy on the Greenbean. Wish you the best."

I close the door, moving away from the Bloodhouses and around the corner. The door opens behind me and shuts, and I don't need to turn around to know Gally is following me.

"Where are you going?" He demands, hurrying up next to me.

"I am not up for spying on this shank," I tell him. "He's too boring."

Gally rounds in front of me, rolling his eyes. "Are we not allowed to talk?"

I am not putting up with this. Gally and I don't talk. We plan. Right now, I am not in the mood for getting all mad about this new shank. While yes, I also hate him with vitriol, I have just gotten done spying on those girls. Gally has never even confirmed that he thinks they are innocent yet. Which means he still might not trust me, which blows my mind.

"Didn't I say next time you came at me with that sentimental klunk, you'd lose a finger or something?" I push past him. For a second he doesn't follow me, but soon he is rounding up after me once more. For half a second I wish he'd chill the shuck out.

"That shank is too dangerous to spy on. I remember him," Gally tells me, moving up closer. "Don't remember any of you girls, if that's why you're shucking angry. I know he's guilty of something. I was shucking stung, if you haven't forgotten."

How could I forget something he brings up every five minutes to prove that he isn't some scared little slinthead? Course I remember he was pricked by a Griever. If he talked about anything else, the ground would start crumbling beneath us.

"Michelle," he calls out.

He follows me into the Deadheads, I finally turn around to face him.

"What?" I slap the syllable down so hard I expect the trees to quake.

He never says my name, so I had expected him maybe to look different. He still looks as sullen and lifeless as always. One hand resting on the tree above me, staring down at me. Eyes sunken into his face, cheeks bright red, and sweat crossing his forehead. I feel it too, and I imagine I look the same. It's exhausting.

He kisses me, his lips firmly against mine, and I shove him off.

His eyes rake over me incredulous. Surprise takes over him.

"What?"

"You can't just kiss me and expect me to kiss you back," I argue, crossing my arms over my chest.

He looks away, rubbing his nose with his free hand. The other remains on the tree above me. "So, what? You don't want me to kiss you?"

"No," I tell him, although I can't be sure if I am telling him I don't want him to kiss me, or if I'm telling him I don't not want him.

He straightens up, staring me down. "Why are you so shucked off all a sudden? Did David dump you or some klunk? Am I your rebound?"

This is why I am shucked off. I slide out from beneath him, moving deeper into the forest. The Doors closed long ago, so it is dark as klunk in here. "You just assume everything is about you and Dave."

"I assume because you call him Dave," Gally argues, spinning around me again. When I try to walk past him, he holds me in place. "I assume because you're in love with him."

"I'm not," I hiss it through my teeth, glaring at him.

He nods, unsure. His grip is looser, but enough to hold me in place. "You sure as shuck aren't in love with me."

"Why, are you in love with me?" I counter, still trying to tug my arm free from him.

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"I don't know!" Gally actually shouts it, finally letting go of me.

I take a step back, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't. Maybe he is waiting for me to storm off, so he can chase me down. Maybe he is waiting for me to ask.

I'll ask.

"Did you kill Nick?"

He raises his eyebrows, staring at me. For a second, his chest raises in a laugh, but he shakes it off. "Did Winston tell you that?"

I don't answer, waiting for Gally's response.

"I hope you know that Winston is also trying to shack you," he tells me. "I like Winston and all, since we agree on most things, but he doesn't get klunk. He thinks he can just trick you into being with him."

And Gally doesn't? Gally has never cared much for what I want, or what anyone else wants. I actually think I like that about him. He throws fists, and temper tantrums, and demands until he gets his way. He is determined to win at all costs.

"Who killed Nick?"

"Oh shuck it, Michelle." He shakes his head to the side, his eyes leaving mine.

"Who killed Nick?" I ask it once more, waiting for his response.

Gally breathes in and out, trying to find some composure. Searching for some sense in it all, but he can't seem to find anyway. He begins to speak. "David shucked up the hammering job on the roof. Nick's foot got stuck, and he slipped. He dangled over the side. I went to help him, but instead of pulling him up I dropped him."

He looks for my reaction, but I try to give him none. I didn't think it would be this easy. Never imagined he'd tell me so plain and simply that he murdered someone.

"He wanted to see if he could tamper with the box again," Gally admits. "Thought if he sent someone down, had them stick a steel pole in there that the blades wouldn't go off and kill somebody. Told him he was crazy, but he wanted to send Dave down the next morning."

"So you killed him?" I ask.

"Better kill him than let Dave die," Gally admits, although begrudgingly. "Dave thought he fell. He was pissed at me that I couldn't save him. Though I was pissed at him for agreeing to the stupid plan."

Why is he telling me this? Why admit he killed someone too?

"Nick was a slinthead anyway," Gally leans against a tree.

That doesn't really answer my question. "Why tell me?"

He shrugs, sighing. "You killed someone too. Someone dangerous."

I killed someone in a way more aggressive than Gally. The absence of saving someone isn't the same as pushing them into what kills them. Both Gally and I made choices, one more premeditated then the other. Both to protect our friends. I guess, we don't just have each other after all.

We have friends, but we choose each other.

"You didn't need to tell me," I begin.

Gally scoffs, looking up at me. "I did."

I don't know how to argue with him, since he stares at me so plainly.

"Shuck, I didn't want to do this," he admits, backing away.

Now I chase after him. I grab him by the arm, and pull him towards me.

"What is this?"

He pauses, staring at me. I watch his shoulders move. Gally anticipates whatever he is about to do next, as do I.

"I love you, Michelle."

I'm kissing him.

I hate that I keep crawling back to this. This swearing and shacking. This hatred and heartfelt klunk always brings me back here. Back to nights where I don't think about what I think, or what I feel, but what is between my hands.

A physical world exists between us. Sheading of clothing instead of addressing issues, because I'm some angry girl who can't tell someone she likes them. Who keeps bouncing back between two different boys, one of whom she wants to actually sleep with and one of whom she can't understand why she hates, and both boys switch roles on a weekly basis.

I have always wanted Gally. I have always wanted to kiss him with the fire that burns in my mouth. I like to take his skin in my hands. His muscles are hard against my fingers as I press into his skin. Bare shoulders I grip with full force.

I have wanted his anger, and his willpower, and his hatred. I too am angry. I don't know happiness, and don't want to know happiness. Here, he and I are the same. We have the same bones, and the same flesh, and the same feelings.

His hands grip my hips, digging into me like I dig into him. I kiss him until I don't know who he is anymore, or who I am. I kiss him until my lips hurt from pressing them against his, and until I no longer have the ability to hold in my breath. Until he can't either. Until we are forced to press ourselves together, to try and build something.

Because that's what Builders do. We break things and smash them together, until something works. Until something useful has been made.

Until we have something worth living for.


	16. I could be something

Ella 16

There are no thoughts.

None.

None.

I want to remember you, but I only remember remembering you. Not like, any of the memories, but I know I knew. It's gone from me now. I shouldn't have let them do that.

But otherwise, nothing.

Don't really know what else to say.

Any empty head. I failed the coalition. I do not know why we are here, or how to fix it. I failed.

Maybe the silence speaks more.


	17. I could be vocal

Leo 17

I wish I could get to vote in the first half of the Gathering. Since I'm not technically a Keeper, I don't get to say what I think about the whole Thomas situation. Well, if I wanted to I could say something, but I don't get a vote out of it like the rest of the guys do.

I only get to be here to see what we are doing about Dawn and Minho. Since I actually can vote to help her.

Zart gives his opinion, as neutral as always (since he refuses to ever come to any sort of concrete decision on anything), while Gally grippes on.

"This is ridiculous," he mutters.

Newt, at this point, has grown tired of his heckling. We've been here almost ten minutes, and no one has been heard yet except Zart. Poor Thomas is staring forward, either terrified out of his wits by Gally, or worried he's going to be banished like Ben. I'll actually lose my klunk if that happens.

I didn't do enough when Michelle was banished. If they try to banish Thomas after he saved two people, I'll actually light the Homestead on fire.

Maybe I won't, but I could get Michelle to do it for me. I'd barely have to ask.

"Fry-pan?" Newt offers to the boy.

Fry-pan straightens himself, stroking his beard. "Greenie's gutsier than any shuckin' animal I've ever seen. Saved a bunch of lives, and here we are harpin' about what to do with him."

"You're recommendation?" Newt asks further.

Fry-pan grins, looking at Thomas. "Put him on the council, get him to teach us what he knows."

At this Gally loses his absolute mind. He's practically leaping at the kid, while Winston mutters under his breath. Clint shakes his head, while Billy starts to affirm Gally's statement. Then Minho jumps in yelling and I can't even begin to pick out words people are saying.

Gatherings tend to go like this. Gally's a little wilder than usual, as is Minho, but otherwise nothing abnormal is happening.

From across the circle, Fry-pan winks at me. I'm a bit taken aback. Was he trying to cause the chaos, or did he know that I'd agree with him? After all, I'm already an honorary member of the council, elected to serve the girls. A democratic vote, if you will.

"Will you shanks shut you shuckin' holes?" Newt is trying to stay calm, but he isn't doing a good job. He wrings his hands, trying to stop them from shaking. "No ideas too jacked, and you'll all get your bloody vote. This isn't a playground."

I wish Newt and I could talk, but I messed it all up when I kissed him. I don't think he's like me, judging by the way he stormed out the room. There isn't a word that I know for what I am, or what he is, or I guess what people like Dawn are. He just, doesn't like girls. It seems that I like everyone.

Well, not everyone. Just, both.

Tim is next- the cute Keeper of the Sloppers. He's the youngest out of all of us, even though he isn't anywhere near a Greenie. He might even be younger than Ella. My best guess is he is 14, maybe pushing 15.

"I don't know. I don't think I have an opinion"

Newt gives him a funny look. "No opinion?"

"If anything I agree with Fry," he shrugs his shoulders up and down.

Newt grumbles, but breathes in he writes it down on the sheet. "So you do have an opinion?"

Tim shrugs again, but Newt is already moving on to Winston. It's sort of how this goes, although Newt's techniques are different. Everybody seems to respect Newt a bit less than Alby, although people don't seem to respect Alby to begin with. It's also a lot more opinion based. Alby normally just briefs the situation, lets people give their recommendation for the most and moves on. None of this opinion garble, except from me.

"He broke our biggest rule," Winston offers, looking down at his hands. "I say we shove him in the Slammer for the week. Just bread and water until he's out. Nothing personal Greenie, it's just how things should be done."

Winston punctuates his sentence by glaring at Minho. Everyone seems to be sending Minho similar looks. A few even look over to Dawn. This anger is trickling onto Newt and I, since Newt didn't lock the pair up when they found out, nor when Thomas got back. There's another rumour, that claims I am sleeping with Alby.

Most of the Keepers aren't friends. Most of them hate each other.

Dawn gets to her feet, and is suddenly running out of the room. As soon as she's gone, everyone's attention turns to me.

"What's gotten into her?" Gally's voice is antagonistic.

"Did she eat yesterday?" Clint turns his attention over to Fry. "She looked green."

He looks offended at the proposition. "Of course she ate. You think she could be a Cook and not eat?"

"I'll go check on her," I pop out the door, heading down the hall.

I shut the door behind me, leaning against it and taking a second to breathe. Sometimes, being in that room and remaining composed takes everything out of me.

I can hear her throwing up in the closet across the hall. Knocking on the door, I press the side of my face against it. She is inside, hiding from me, seemingly.

I open the door. Dawn is huddled on the floor leaning over a bucket. She seems to be dry-heaving, as no vomit comes out of her. My knees hit the ground next to her, and I'm stroking her back.

"They're going to banish us," she tells me, through the drool she spits into the bucket.

"Winston's just bitter," I tell her, although I'm not sure it's true.

I know how the voting system goes here. It's all about who is friends with who. Gally and Winston are going to want her out, and Billy and the Keeper of the Bricknicks will side with them. Newt, Fry and I will vote for them, but the rest are a toss up. I'm not sure about how Clint and Zart will vote, nor Tim.

I'm sure Minho is safe. I couldn't make any guess about Dawn. Not that it matters. Once she is out of here, half the Gladers want her dead. Upset that she didn't break the rules for them. These boys can be so entitled.

"They're all bitter," she holds onto the bucket with full force, trying to hold herself intact. "This is exactly why I didn't eat this morning. I knew I'd be stressed."

She's been different more recently. I mean, since Ben attacked her the first time she was different, but now she is even more on edge. Even with him banished and gone.

"I get stressed out a lot too," I try to empathize with her, but she throws the bucket. It slams into a shelf, knocking a broom over.

"Oh, I don't need the sob story," she wipes her face with the back of her hand, refusing to look at me. "Trust me Lee. I'm fine."

"You sure?" I ask.

She stands up, turning to face me finally. Nodding, she averts her eyes. "It was hard. After yesterday though, I don't have the energy to think about Ben anymore. He's dead and gone."

"It might help," I tell her, carefully. "To tell the Keepers what he did. It might make you feel better."

She shakes her head, passing by me. "I'm fine."

I don't think so. I grab her wrist, and she turns around. Her eyebrows crease, as she stares at my hand. She isn't quite listening to me.

"I think you need to let people know what he did," she tells me. "How he tried to blackmail you, and all that stuff. It doesn't make you weak."

"I stopped having nightmares," she tells me. "Stopped feeling his hands on me too."

"It's still allowed to bother you," I try to make her understand my position. I don't get being attacked like that. I don't get the fear and the shame. "But if you go in there and tell them, I bet you they will condemn him, and you'll stop hearing about how great a person he is. That might help. And, you can stop focusing on him too. It can be about you now."

She doesn't answer me, only stares. After a few seconds pass, roars erupt from the Gathering room. Gally storms out, takes one look at me, and slams the door. I clench my fist, staring at the walls as they rattle. What could possibly be happening in there now?

I head back in, and Dawn is quick to follow behind me. I shut the door carefully behind us.

"Don't tell me you didn't love every second of that," Minho jumps in. "Gally's not good a person."

Newt crosses his arms over his chest. "He's a Keeper for a reason, Minho."

I seriously missed something. Gally's chair is over turned, and Newt, Winston and Minho are all heading to their chairs. Did Minho attack Gally? What did he say?

"Someone should go lock him up," Minho argues, moving back to his chair. "I can only think of one good thing he's ever done. Tried to save Leo's life, but otherwise nothing."

A few heads swing my way. I freeze in my shoes. Why did Minho have to bring this up again?

"Can we do this later?" I ask, slinking back over to my seat. This is really not the time to open this can of worms. I thought we'd tell everybody the story during Dawn and Minho's sentencing. Not while we are still dealing with Thomas.

"Maybe Gally has a point anyway?" Winston points out. Minho backs away from Winston like he suddenly sprouted a third eye.

"Now you're bugging?" Minho rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Seriously," Winston continues. "I mean, he did go through the Changing. Says he remembers Thomas."

"He's jacked," Fry-pan interrupts. "Did you see him just now? Never seen him like that."

For the record, I would like to point out that Gally dumped acid on me. Probably should've brought it up before now, but it's the shucking truth. He's jacked.

"Can I speak?" Thomas finally speaks up, leaning into the conversation.

Newt, exasperated, nods. It really can't get much worse than this. The Gathering is in shambles.

Thomas, finally leans forward, ready to speak. "So, that Gally kid hates me, but I don't know why. I remember about as much as you guys do, honestly. Anyway, I'm not here because he's psycho, but because I went in the Maze."

"Good that," Newt leans forward in his chair. He is so done, and we've not even gotten halfway through the Gathering. "Now we vote."

"We need all the Keepers to vote," Winston argues. "Unless, like Alby, they're sick.

I roll my eyes. "Sure as shuck didn't need Minho here to banish Michelle last time, yet here we are."

I am surprised by my own words. As it seems, are a few others. Fry-pan is hollering out-loud, but you can say anything to make him laugh. Winston doesn't seem as amused.

Newt shoots me a polite grin. For a second our eyes lock, but then his drop, and he looks down.

"I'd say that Gally's a bit more than sick today," Newt remarks, glaring at Winston.

I can't help the grin that sneaks onto my face.

"Here's my bit," Newt begins. I think he always has the best recommendations. It was his idea to lock Michelle up for a week when she 'attacked' the Baggers, but not to banish her. He also agreed to banish Ben. "We lock him up for all of tomorrow, then make him a Runner. Better than most we've got. Forget being Keeper though. No shucking way is that happening Minho."

Minho nods apprehensively. That must've been the comment that sent Gally off the edge. I'll have to ask Clint what to do after this. "He's the best though. No doubt in my mind."

"Then maybe at least give it a shucking month?" Newt seems so exhausted. I'm exhausted too. "So, I know there are a bunch of recommendations, but-"

Fry-pan brushes off Newt, ignoring him. "This is going to be long enough, already. I'm voting yours Newt. All in favour?"

There was a chorus of ayes, with only one neigh coming from Winston. Although I'm not surprised. I've seen him, Michelle, and Gally together lately more often then not.

"Don't get me wrong," he offers when Fry-pan shoots him a look. "I think Gally's off the bend. I just, don't know that he's got all of it wrong. Things have been screwy lately. Even screwier than when those girls showed up."

Newt nods.

I can't help but agree. Too much has happened recently. A dead Griever, Ben going nuts, a bloody girl (who still isn't awake). Things are getting weirder and weirder.

"Alright, then if the Greenie will leave, we can address the other matter."


	18. I could be sick

Dawn 18

They told Chuck to screw off until they could get through this part of the meeting. I'm glad we aren't postponing it, any longer.

"So, I take it we all want to get out of here," Newt calls out. "So, can we make this as brief as shucking possible?"

Everyone seems to nod in agreement. That bit with Thomas took so long. I'm surprised they made me sit through the whole thing. Leo said something about why earlier, but I was too nervous to pay attention. I think I could throw up again.

"No recommendation," Zart begins.

"Not surprised, as always," Newt shakes his head back and forth. "Fry-pan?"

Fry-pan looks at me smiling. "I don't know why we aren't throwing a celebration. I get that you shanks voted in favour of the no touching klunk, but I'm against it to shuck. Wasn't the rule meant to protect the girls from klunk they don't want, and stop fighting? As long as Dawn and Minho are happy, why do I give a shuck?"

"You saying we go down with the rule?" Newt asks.

Fry nods. From what Minho told me, only he and Fry were against the rule. Leo wasn't a member of the council yet, so I'm out of luck there. I know she won't vote to banish me. The other consequences seem fair game.

Newt moves on, gesturing to the next boy.

"No recommendation," I never learned the Keeper of the Sloppers' name. He's always nice to me though, like Chuck. "Sorry, but I don't even know what to do here."

"How long has this been happening?" Winston pipes in, looking back and forth between me and Minho.

Is the proper answer since we got here? I don't know what he means by this. Did it start when he kissed me? When we decided it wasn't a one-time thing? When I stayed the night in his room?

"A while now," Minho offers. "Practically since she got here. Probably kissed her while you shanks decided to banish Michelle."

I never think about how new I was then. Michelle always gripes about how she didn't get it when we first got here. She had been here five days. I guess we didn't get the rules then.

It's been more than a month, which is weird. Time seems so much slower here. Everything takes so long. Makes it's because something insane is always happening.

"No one knew this whole time?" Someone else asks.

"Shuck half the Glade knew," I pop in.

"I knew," Fry offers, trying to diffuse the situation. "That was awkward to walk into."

I glare at him, but I don't have it in me to frown. It's practically impossible to be mad at Fry.

"Leo and I knew as well," Newt chimes in. "As does Alby. Michelle knew too."

"I think Dave figured it out," I offer.

"Ben." Minho spits it out.

Right, he knew. I'm glad everyone knows now. I feel a lot safer. I don't think they'll banish us for this. If we get into the whole Ben thing, the violence is still on the table though. Then, they'll have to bring Michelle in too. That'll be a mess.

"So, at this point who didn't know?" Winston offers. "And what's with Ben?"

I glance straight over at Minho. It wasn't in me to approach this conversation. I didn't want to open this. Newt coughs, glancing over at Leo, who looks back over at me.

"He tried to force me to shack him," I tell them, "when he found out about me and Minho. Told me he'd get Minho banished. He beat me up when I tried to fight him off. Then, when he tried to do Michelle afterwards, Michelle and Minho got him back."

Everyone is silent in the room for a few seconds. I don't think anyone knows what to say. Leo offers my leg a soft squeeze of encouragement, but I don't know have anything to add.

"So, it was all self-defence?" Winston doesn't trust me.

"Oh, would you knock off the klunk?" Minho jumps in. "You saw how bad he beat her, and he didn't have a mark on him until days later. We aren't spewing klunk."

"Ask Michelle," Leo jumps in.

"Does no one remember how Michelle hit Ben the first night, when he came at her too?" Minho's getting fired up. "Was that not part of the reasoning to ban touching? My vote, touching shouldn't be a crime, so long as we let people say when they've been hurt. Keeping this a secret let Ben almost-"

"You can't vote when you are being accused," Winston counters, huffing. "If you hadn't touched her maybe Ben would never have tried to hurt her."

Minho stands up, towering over Winston. "Shucking continue. I shucking dare you."

"My vote: send you both to the Slammer for a week, one at a time so we know they won't touch each other, starting with Minho so we don't lock her up with Thomas. Then, if either of them do it again, or if anybody even catches that its happening, we banish them and the shanks who knew."

Newt is upon Minho, physically holding him back before he even moves to charge. He leaps for Winston, jumping at the boy, and it takes Fry getting up to actually restrain the boy. I feel my hands drop into my lap, and my head falls forward. I want to help him, but I can't feel my fingers. I lean forward, throwing up onto the ground.

People are darting around me, as I hang over my vomit. I guess not eating hasn't helped. Leo is by my side, stroking my back. I glance up, watching Minho freeze, looking at me. He stops fighting, taking a step closer to me. Newt physically drags him backwards.

Chuck runs in, with a mop. He quickly cleans up the mess, before darting back in the hallway. The air is so thick that it weighs down my chest, compressing me.

They throw him down in his seat, before Newt turns to me. "You good Dee?"

I nod.

He glances back at Leo, still perched next to me. She nods, waiting for me to continue.

"Enough of this explanation klunk. It ain't helping nothing, except perhaps giving me motive to knock your shuck-faces in. All of you. We say our recommendations, we vote, we leave."

He gestures for it to continue with the Bricknick I don't know. "I agree with Winston. We can't let this stuff keep going."

"Good that," Billy chimes in. "It's all about the rules. Though I don't know how much I trust them not to sneak around again. They've already been doing it this whole time."

Clint waits for Newt to acknowledge him before he stands. He looks at Leo across the circle before he offers up his bit. "I'd be a shucking hypocrite not to let them go at it, since I'm shacking Jeff."

With that, he sits down.

A few of the Keepers begin whispering. It's always been a joke that the two of them go at it up there, but I didn't think there was any fact to it.

"Good that," Fry-pan mutters. "Shucking finally."

Clint smiles weakly. I'm glad he can at least be happy about this. I don't know how happy I am.

"Can I speak?" Leo asks. "If that's everyone."

No one objects, so it's just her now. Finally, she can say what she thinks about the whole situation.

"If the whole rule was made to protect the girls, then you should abolish it on everyone accept the girl who is comatose and Ella," Leo argues, leaning back. "It's a dumb shuck rule. The whole reason you appointed me was to protect the girls, and it's a bit shucked up for you boys to sit here and decide what we can and can't do. Why do you shanks get to make a decision about the girls, when most of you barely bother to talk to us?

"Besides," she yawns in between words. I can see her knee fidgeting underneath her. She's trying to hide her panic, but I can read it off her. "You banish Dawn and Minho, you're banishing more. At least one other girl, and one of you Keepers too."

No one speaks after this. No sounds escape except Leo's jittering knee.

She's ratting out Gally, I bet. The only way she can do that though is if she gets Michelle banished. Although, I guess no one here knows that. From the way eyes fly about face to face, everyone thinks she is talking about herself.

Newt clears his throat. "Well, I think we should abolish the rule. That's my call. No rule, means no punishment. Anyone disagree?"

It is now only Winston and Billy who disagree. At least Leo managed to win someone over. With that, we win.

"Then it's settled." Newt finally stands up, cracking his back. "The Gathering is closed."

Everyone begins to file out the room, rather quietly. Newt meets Thomas on the other side, and the two dart upstairs.

Minho doesn't move for the exit. Instead, he grabs my shoulders. Leo leaves, so it is just him and I. His hands rest delicately on my knees.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his eyes searching my face. "We need to get you to a Med-jack."

"I'm fine," I argue, though I don't think so. I don't even think this is the nerves.

He shakes his head, his eyes pleading with mine. "You can't lie to me Dee."

"I can try," I offer half a smile. "Seriously though. I may not feel great, but the idea of seeing you sent out there again, overnight, made me sick again."

He squeezes my hands, and I squeeze back. My eyes are closed, and all I feel is him. I imagine him behind those Doors again. I imagine him lifeless, hands cold, and weak, and nothing like him. I can't let go. Nothing could ever make me lose him.

"When I was out there, I thought I would die," he begins. "I never thought we would be here, after all that. Nothing else seems to matter anymore, except living with you. This is all klunk."

I nod, remembering that night. His sheets were so empty. The stars in the sky were gone. I don't remember much of it, since drugs were pumped through my system, but I remember the panic in my lungs, and the stilling of my heart as I waited. Not just for his body, but for the morning. It felt as though the rest of my life I would be waiting for him to come home.

"We need to get food in you," he tells me, helping me up.

"I love you," I blurt out, rapidly, since it just explodes out from within me.

He smiles, pulling me into him as we walk away. "I love you too, Dee.

As we leave the room, Minho offers my hand a squeeze. I can't help but smile.

I am forced to confront reality once more. Winston glares at me, moving out of the room. When I turn to look for Leo, I notice she is already gone. Something is up with her and Newt; I can feel it in my bones. They must've gotten in a fight while I was sedated. Though it's odd to see the two at odds.

I need to get out of here.

Once we are out of the room, I leave the Homestead. The sun outside is bright, and nearly blinding in the early morning light. A few of the Builders walk by, staring at me and Minho as we hold hands. It feels so good not to hide. I wish to continue to be seen like this, forever.

Everything is finally falling into place.

"You think Leo will actually rat out Alby?" Frypan asks, moving along beside us.

Everybody is going to be speculating what she means now, I guess. The primary target is Alby. He's the one who let her have a seat on the Council after all, and the two are known to walk around together late at night.

There is no way Leo is screwing anybody. It would have come out by now. Leo doesn't keep secrets, right?

Although, she didn't tell me Newt knew Minho and I were together, and she never keeps me updated on Ella's condition. If she's so good at keeping other people's secrets, why wouldn't she keep her own?

"She ain't screwing him," I mutter, walking out of the building. Minho and Fry-pan follow me, though no one else does. There is no use creating a scene out of this anyway. "It's Michelle, guarantee."

Minho shrugs, looking around. "It'd have to be Winston she is screwing then. Kind of funny that Alby transferred her there."

I don't think she is screwing Winston. Although, maybe she is. Winston is a creepy fellow, but Michelle has never really cared much about those kinds of things. Gally is just as shucking awful, but she's still with him.

"Please, Michelle would bite off his finger if he came near her," Fry laughs. "She'd never shack anybody. It's got to be Leo."

Leo wouldn't keep that kind of secret from me. We're best friends, I think. I mean, I keep secrets from her, sure, but it's different. I'm trying to protect her from herself. Me, I don't need the same kind of protection.

I can't care about that right now. Here I am, free, underneath the closest star in this universe. Everyone can see us in the light, Minho and me. Though we stand with Fry, we stand together. We're a team. Interlaced in a way that is visible.

It's funny, because I haven't thought about Ben this whole time, even though we admitted to the blackmail. He feels farther away then he did before.

Dave rounds the corner, surprised to see me. When he notices the hand I'm holding, he gets a faint smile on his face. "Have you seen Gally? We have a question about the build."

I glance at Fry, giving him a look. To Dave, I shake my head. Bet Gally's gone to complain about the meeting to Michelle, and then to shack her. Poor Dave though. I wish I could do something to help him.

"Hopefully he's far away from here," Minho mutters, his hand squeezing on mine. "Next time I see him, I'm bashing his head in."

The poor shank gives Minho a sad look, before turning off. Fry follows him too.

It's just myself and Minho left standing together, clinging on to each other, despite the storm that rages around us.


	19. I could be doing

19 Michelle

I hate being in the Bloodhouses. They are too warm, and too sterile, and they always smell like rotting flesh. Despite all of this, I continue to work away, else face the wrath of Winston when he returns.

There is a hand on mine, shoving the Butcher's knife I'm holding on to the table. I knock my elbow backwards, grabbing the knife and spinning around to see Gally staring at me. He raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for my attack.

I drop the knife, moving over to wash my hand. He's back earlier than I had expected. "I take it they aren't banishing the Greenie."

"Run away with me," his words are careful and clear.

I turn the tap off, flicking water droplets off my hands. They hit the sink, clinking off the metal. I turn back around to face him. His face is redder than usual, and his jaw is in a line. He's serious. Which makes me scoff at his judgement. "Run where?"

"Out there," he points at the door. "If the Greenie can live in the Maze, so can we."

He's gone off his rocker. Gally's been a mess before, but never openly suicidal. "No."

I wait for him to speak again. Seconds tick by, as he stares at me blankly. Sweat stains his shirt and anger his cheeks. If he's waiting for more of an explanation, he is out of luck.

We stand together, only a few feet apart. He stares at me, eyes bugging, chest heaving. If he expects me to follow him, he is out of luck. I don't know what to even say. Things are different after last night. Neither of us can go on and pretend the one doesn't have some sort of feeling for the other. I don't know what mine is, but at the very least he loves me.

At the very least, I feel it too.

Gally runs past me, shoving himself out of the door.

I don't move. Did he seriously just come in here to ask me to leave the Glade, then sprint off when I don't answer? What was he expecting? He's full of it.

There is a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I push my way through the door, out into the open. Gally is gone. My eyes dart around, in time to see him run through the Doors.

Klunk.

I don't know how to move. Instead, I stay still and watch. Gladers begin to move towards the kitchen. They pass by me, but I don't know what to do. Gally ran out into the Maze. He's out there. Is he planning on staying there until the morning?

Will he make it?

"Are you alright?"

Dave is standing in front of me. Waiting for me to say anything. I don't speak, but I also don't feel. It's almost like I'm stuck. The ground has been ripped out beneath me. There aren't words to process it. There aren't thoughts or ideas, but feelings. I want to rip up my skin. I want to tear down the Walls.

I think I just watched Gally die.

Dave feigns moving for me, but he doesn't. He bites his lip, and curses under his breath. He doesn't get to just show up and pretend he didn't explode in my face. He ruined a lot for me. Bridges were burnt because of him.

"Michelle..."

There is no question that follows.

I push past Dave, moving away from him. He follows up beside me, not grabbing my arm, but I shove him away like he was about to. Hurting him in ways I don't know how to hurt someone. I don't know what to think anymore.

There isn't time now for me to sit here and talk myself into thinking I like Dave. Nor is there time to convince myself I hate Gally. That's what I've been doing to them. Constantly pitting one against the other, I tried to justify my actions. I tried to make it seem like one was better than the other, but they aren't.

I'm flawed, and Gally is gone, and I can't choose Dave anymore. That isn't fair to anyone.

"Just go away," I storm past him.

He continues on. "What happened?"

"I'd rather die than shack you again," my lips are firm and harsh as I spin around. I don't look at Dave though. I don't do anything. "So, if you would just step the shuck off before I break your wrist that would save you the pain and me the banishment."

He doesn't follow me this time.

Once I'm in the Deadheads, I still don't know what to do. It's me, fighting for myself. Realistically, I don't have a team. If I want to, I can sit here and pretend Leo is here for me, but she isn't. Or maybe she is, but Gally is going to die, and there isn't anything I can do about it. I had the opportunity to stop him.

Why do people keep putting their klunk on me? Gally is suspicious, so I have to spy. Dave is worried, so I have to stop fighting. Dawn is having a shucking breakdown, so I have to protect her. It's not my job to keep them safe. It's not my job to help. It's not even my job to be here.

"Come to break a tree?" Jackson walks around a corner, crossing his arms over his chest. Doug is a few steps behind them.

It makes sense that they are friends. Doug has hated me since day one and Jackson tried to get me killed. So, they're the worst, and partners.

"Come to frame me for hurting you?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jackson flips a knife out of his pocket. At this, Doug takes a step back from him. He stares between the two of us, before glancing down at the knife.

"What are you doing?" He hisses through his teeth, stepping around in front of the knife, but backing away again.

Instead of answering, Jackson twirls the knife between his two fingers. He doesn't bother to look at me. He must be getting a kick out of this. He can think I am intimidated all he wants, but that doesn't make it the truth.

"What did you say to Gally?" Jackson asks me carefully. "He ran out pretty quickly."

Doesn't matter what I say, Jackson doesn't give a shuck. He didn't when he arrested me the first time, and he doesn't now. I wait through his silence. If he strikes first, I'll strike back. No one has come to arrest me yet, so I am assuming Dawn and Minho didn't rat me out in their Gathering.

Not that anyone could rat me out for what I did to Ben. Maybe Winston, although Doug wouldn't be here if I were being arrested.

"We're not stooping to her level," Doug continues, glaring me out of the corner of his eye. "Stop it."

I realise, at this point, that like all the other men in my life, pretty much, Doug is just an entitled Glader who is trying to shack me. Or at least, was. When I punched him in the face like a month ago, he was making a comment about wanting to sleep with me. So, its his wounded ego that hate me.

Maybe the fact that I punched him in the face did less than help the situation. That's the Dave in my head talking. The Gally in me, though the boy has gone, just wants to knock Doug out. Did he seriously come to this fight, not expecting Jackson to try to hurt me?

This is poor planning. I could've organized a beating better than this. Besides, there is nothing to keep me hushed up.

"I haven't hit her, have I?" Jackson takes his eyes off of me to glance over at Doug.

At this, I swing my leg out from underneath me, swiping at one of Jackson's legs. The boy is much stronger than me but falls since he was caught off guard. I take a step up to him, before stepping on the wrist which holds a knife.

I don't know what Jackson has against me. Maybe it's because I attacked a bunch of people when I got here. Maybe he's just got a power complex, or maybe he actually fears me. Jackson isn't part of some big conspiracy that thinks us girls are evil. Gally and Winston spearhead that, and they seem to trust me.

Jackson winces from beneath me. I look up to Doug, waiting for him to hit me, but he doesn't. I almost feel badly for punching him in the face awhile ago. I would feel it, if I had the ability to feel klunk.

"Next time you attack me, attack me smarter."

I step off of Jackson, swiping his knife up off the ground. Knowing better than to keep it, I chuck it off into the forest. My eyes find Doug. I glare at him, before passing around him and leaving the Deadheads.

The Keeper of the Baggers, Billy, stares at me as I push by him. I wonder what he knows, and what he thinks about me. Does he know Gally left? Does anyone know?

I wonder if it's fair to blame myself. It hadn't really occurred to me that this could be my fault, but it could be. If I had said yes, I might have been able to hit him, and stop him from leaving.

Then I'd be banished, but that isn't worth it.

They have already packed up the food when I get to the Kitchen, and no sympathetic eyes offer anything to me. Not that I'm surprised. I have half a mind to beat the loud mouthy kid, just because he won't shut up.

I want to start a fight. If they banish me tonight, I might be able to find Gally. Although, maybe they won't banish people anymore. If we go out there, we could possibly live. Maybe I should've followed Gally and given him a better chance. Maybe I should've hit Jackson. Maybe I should've screamed at Dave. Maybe, if I'd done a million or one other things here or there something would be different.

"Hey Michelle," I spin to see Dawn. She is laughing, standing next to Minho and Fry. My presence has ripped her from that happiness. "Dave was looking for Gally. He had a question on the build."

"Gally left," I don't know why I tell her.

"What do you mean left?" She laughs, shrugging her hair over her shoulders.

I don't know what to tell her. Maybe saying it out loud is what is going to ruin this. He might've just run out to blow off steam. He could be back in a few hours. He could be back soon.

"He ran into the Maze," I tell her, keeping my voice steady. "I don't think he will come back."


	20. I could be hearing

Ella 20:

It's late when I walk into the room Alby is in. There is a chair in the corner, which I sit on. The wood scratches against my legs. There is a nail, sticking out only slightly, that nicks my leg. I brush myself away. My jeans have been ripped open. I am bleeding. I pay it no mind.

I face him as he groans in his bed. I don't think he even knows I'm in the room. If he does, he says nothing. The pain that compresses his chest causes the white sheets that surround him to almost engulf him whole.

It's weird to be awake. I can actually see everything in the room around me. There is a wooden floor beneath me, hard and splintering. Every time Alby moves, the bed frame creaks. I expect it to shatter beneath him, and for the whole world to collapse under his weight.

Everything is fragile. I only notice it now. The air is hollow and light. The sun peaks in the window, but it also avoids me. It glares at me. It is a dull yellow.

Much like the sheets stretched over the mattress, old and ratting, tinged yellow in colour. All the boys who have gone through the Changing have probably sweat through them over time. Alby is neither first nor last.

The colour yellow reminds me of something that I have forgotten. Out of instinct, my hand flies up to the red slit on the back of my neck. The skin hurts and has crusted over. My hair falls over the incision mark well enough that no one has noticed it yet. I can feel it though.

It is an odd thing to be living.

Alby pulls himself up into a sitting position. He stares me down, blinking a few times as if he was not expecting me to be camouflaged in with the shadows. Here I am, though. Waiting to speak to him, perhaps.

It hadn't occurred to me before now that I could tell Alby what Clint did. Although, he might not believe me. Clint is the Med-jack, and I am delusional. Perhaps Zart would vouch for me, as would Leo. Not that it matters.

I don't remember anymore. Though I remember that I once could.

See, that's another thing they stole from me. It's worse that I can remember that I could remember. It provides me with some sort of background for information I can't put together. For some reason, I am here. I don't know why though. I'm certain I wasn't supposed to be, and I don't like the girl who shares a room with me even though I don't know why, and I forget the Greenie's name but he annoys me too.

Solution: It must be something I learned before I got here.

"You're awake," Alby notices.

I stiffen. Maybe I wasn't expecting him to speak back to me, or maybe I wasn't expecting to hear the sound. It's so clear. I don't remember if I liked Alby, or if I disliked him. Part of me thinks I might not remember entering this room, although I do. It's hard to separate out what has been stolen and what hasn't.

"Do you remember?" He asks. His voice is low and gruff, gone hoarse from screaming. As if every word is a struggle, one he battles through to speak to me. Outside the window, I can hear boys moving outside. Laughing. There is hammering somewhere, as they deconstruct and reconstruct the building between my own feet. It is too bright, and too loud. "Do you remember before the Maze?"

I'm cautious to answer, though I don't remember why. Maybe it's something to do with Leo? It's slipping from me as we speak, until I forget why I don't trust him. I don't remember what we are talking about. I force my hands to still in my lap, since they threaten to twitch.

"That's why you're shucked," he begins, looking at me. "That's why you were going to attack Thomas."

I shrug my shoulders, aware of them. At my side. How didn't I notice them this entire time? They weigh so much, and move with me as I think. Without my telling them to do so consciously. "I think you've found out that I can't tell you anything."

Alby nods carefully. I overheard Clint telling Leo that Alby tried to strangle himself. Better that then give away their secrets. It's not confirmed, but I think Clint reattached something in my head. I don't remember what or why, but I think he did it intentionally. Anyway, if the thing that kept our memories at bay is what controls us, I'd rather not try to tell Alby. I'd rather operate within the rules than hurt myself trying to break them. They control us like that, you know.

"I'm not surprised you didn't tell us," Alby begins, sighing. His breathing adds sound to the room that I wasn't expecting. Loud. All-encompassing. "I wouldn't have said a word either. Easier that's all left unsaid."

I don't think I agree. The truth will set us free. I lift my hair up, turning around to show Alby the cut on my neck. "They fixed it."

When I turn around, Alby has his head cocked at me in an odd direction. "What's that?"

There's no point in telling him. He mustn't remember what I do. At least, not the way I do it. Or did it. I don't know what I remembered. I understand the inner workings of life beforehand. What we did, who we were, how they treated us. I never got to catch on to the why.

"It took away my memories, again." I sit back down in the chair, facing Alby. "Which is why I come to you."

He nods, though he says nothing. He leans his head back, and it softly thumps against the wall behind him. He too must know there is no point. Resistance is futile. I want to remember. It matters to know. The whole goal of the Coalition was to stop this.

Solution: Remember how to stop this.

My head shakes, back and forth, twitching, until my head rests on my shoulder. There is no point in thinking those words. All it does is bring back, through muscle memory, a tightening in my chest. We were a secret, one I will rediscover.

"Better you forget," Alby looks me dead in the eyes. I can't tell if it is his eyes or my eyes which bleed though. "No good comes from knowing that."

"Might help us get out," I argue back.

"Better we stayed," he crosses his arms over his chest.

I lean my back against the chair. As long as she is out there, it is not better. Every part of me is angry and frustrated. I can't stop this feeling. Maybe it isn't isolation, but a lacking.

In a language I speak, we do not say we miss someone, but that they are missing from us. Maybe that is what exists in my bones. It is an absence, not a feeling. There is something that should be next to me but is gone.

I don't think I am talking about my memories, but I can't remember what I am talking about. Is this what the grey people think all the time?

That makes my neck itchy. I choose to ignore. I choose to forget those words.

I leave Alby's room. He can be no help to me now. No one can.

The operation was successful. I am normal, like the rest of them. I have forgotten all that I once remembered.

She is gone.


	21. I could be loving

Leo 21

I couldn't sleep, so I am up, watching over the sleeping girl. Clint moved Ella back into the room we all sleep in. Michelle didn't come in tonight, and Dawn is sleeping with Minho. Which means, I am alone.

They gave Dawn a strict warning about having any baby Gladers running around. I hope she heeds it. I really don't want that to fall on me. If we are honest, I would end up having to watch after it with her over Minho. He's the Keeper of the Runners.

Maybe Thomas will take over his position by then, but I don't know.

The girl continues to sleep. She muttered Thomas's name again, though she shows no other signs of stirring. Thomas should be going to prison today. I wonder how she knows him. Maybe it is in the same way that Ella knows the pair of them.

"They call her Teresa," Newt steps in the room. He was quiet. I thought I was the only one awake. "Tommy remembered it."

Teresa.

I don't know what to say. My eyes move over to him. He stands, leaning on the doorframe. His whole body raises with his chest. Eyes not meeting mine, I can see the bags underneath them carefully hung. These last few days have been hard on him, and I have been there.

That's because I messed it all up.

"Newt," I don't know how I can make it up to him. He moves closer to me, and my breath hitches, and I forget that I wanted to speak.

"Don't apologise," he brushes past me, moving up to look at Teresa. "I already feel like klunk as it is."

My heart shatters, falling into my knees from deep in my chest. I hadn't expected to make him feel like klunk. When I kissed him, I felt like I had finally finished a puzzle that has taken me my whole life to assemble. Everything seemed to fit together, perfectly. Other than the fact that he is interested in boys.

I thought there was a chance he was like me. Perhaps he liked both girls and boys. Of course, I was wrong. As far as I know, he's in love with the Greenie, Thomas. For all I know, he hates me.

"You did well at the Gathering," he swallows, still avoiding me. "Keepers were talking about how serious you were all day. Really earned their respect."

The Keepers were more preoccupied with wondering who I was shacking. It's not Alby like they think. It's also definitely not Newt. But at least I know why he's here. He came to make sure I wasn't going to leak him.

"I wasn't going to rat you out," I tell him, although there isn't anything to rat him out for. "Gally is shacking Michelle."

"Was," Newt doesn't give Gally a vote of confidence. He didn't come back before the Doors shut, so he probably won't at this point. Maybe he could pull a Thomas, but I don't know. I don't know either of them well enough. Poor Michelle.

"Right."

Newt backs away a bit. Maybe it's from Teresa, or maybe it's from me, but his back hits the wall and he sinks down against the ground. His knees are up, one hand rests in his hair while the other hangs loosely at his side. It looks as if there is no feeling in his body.

"I just wish things could go back to the way they were," Newt remarks, biting his lip. "I wish we could go back to when Nick was alive."

Nick died before I was here. Not much before though since his tomb is nearly as fresh as Stephen's. What was it like before we got here? What was peace like?

I can feel that angry gutless feeling sneaking up on me. It pulls me down, so much that I can't see Newt, and I'm guilty. Perhaps it is just of loving a boy who does not love me. Maybe all of this is my fault, in someone way or another.

Ella seems to think our coalition is to blame for some of it. Although, she has been even less in it since Thomas got here.

"I wish we hadn't come," I tell him, although I don't know the alternative. There is no life that exists outside of the Maze for me. No history, no voice, no thoughts, but it can't be worse than this here. Nothing is quite as bad as this existence.

"I don't," he manages, looking everywhere but at me. "I just shuckin' wish this was different."

Things aren't different though. Michelle is violent, Dawn is rebellious, Ella is blurred, and I am alone. We will be brought out the way we came in. Michelle will die fighting, Dawn will go out as the sky rains down above us, Ella will let her sanity steal her, and I will die alone.

In the order we exist shall be the order which we are stolen.

I was scared then, and I thought Dawn had a beautiful voice, and I thought Michelle was scary, and I thought Ella was insane. I thought I was pathetic. I will die the way I was created.

"I just wished it wasn't shucked," he stands up, reaching eye level. Or above me. He's taller, I think, or maybe I'm falling. Maybe I've fallen.

Maybe I will pull a Gally.

"They aren't though," he knows it, and I know it, but I try to lie anyway.

"Maybe we've got a shot to get out of here," he moves towards the door again. Newt has a way of controlling space that I've yet to master. "Tommy might give us a shucking chance."

I don't know that I'm trying to get out of here. Things can't be better anywhere, I don't think. It's like a sinking grey.

The world is stiff again, as Newt and I stare at each other. Maybe he is at a lost of what to say, just like I am.

"Can we just let things go back to normal?" He's asking me, like it's my decision. As if I have any agency in my own life and choices.

Maybe I do, and it is easier to feel sorry for myself. Perhaps it is the disappointment of knowing that neither him nor Dawn will ever care for me the way I care for them. Or, cared I guess. It does me no good to pine after Newt.

"I think that's up to you," I offer, looking at him.

He's standing farther away from me then he used to. The pair of us used to always leap feet apart. Now, unfortunately, we are stuck in this slowly sinking circle. Neither of us can catch the other.

"I guess you're right," he mutters sadly. Why does he get to be sad about this? I haven't gone anywhere; he has lost nothing. And while he is still here, I have lost my chance to be with him.

He isn't like me.

I want to bring up Michelle, or Dawn, or something to give us something to talk about, but there isn't anything that can take us out of it. We're just going to keep going in circles.

"I was shucked that night Lee," he offers, as if it makes it any better. "I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have ran like a coward."

I mean, what did I expect him to do? Kiss me back? It only makes sense that he would storm out, running. It's not cowardly, its desperation. I trapped him, and that wasn't fair. Especially on a night like that.

"I'm sorry," I reiterate.

"Don't shucking apologise," he looks as if he is about to step closer, but he doesn't. "It's not your fault, okay? It isn't shucking anyone's fault, or maybe it's mine, I don't know."

He wasn't leading me on, so it's not his fault. Couldn't be at any rate.

I don't have anything left to say to him. Really, I've got nothing here to say. Apologises unexpected, there is nothing else to do. I'm not going to confess to him. No sense in embarrassing myself further. It looks like he hasn't even slept much these past few days.

"I didn't mean to shuck it up." He rambles, blabbering on and leaning forward. "Like, I shucking, I thought, I don't know. I just needed to leave, and I couldn't escape."

"Sometimes it feels like I'm being buried alive."

He stops, hands stilling. No one stirs. The night is silent, as is he. Air slips out his lips in soft puffs as he inhales and exhales and inhales and exhales. Eyes meeting mine, waiting for more. Determined to find an answer to a question I wasn't asking.

"Are you alright Lee?" he still can't step forward. Maybe he doesn't want me to fall in love with him, but I can't help it. Loving is sort of like breathing. I'm not normally conscious of it, and I couldn't stop if I wanted to. Well, I could but that would be a whole other thing.

"I'm fine."

"You still aren't eating properly." He tells me, as if I don't know. "You only eat klunk if I shuckin' drag you. Dawn's shucking noticed too; she told Minho and he told me. She's worried about you."

I really, really don't need Newt talking to me now. Like, I get that we are friends, but things are too shucked for me to be with him like this. It isn't fair to him or me.

"I'm not doing this, Newt."

At this point, he steps forward. One foot moving forward in defiance of everything. I wondered, once, if he could never move close to me because he feared the Rules. Now I know he simply fears me.

"What exactly?"

This whole loving thing. I'm not getting attached to crumble. Maybe I want it to happen, but I can't let it. I was doing so much better before this whole thing dragged me down.

Before Dawn started hating me, before I kissed Newt, before Alby got sick, and before something weird happened to Ella, I was doing better. Like, I didn't actually feel this badly all of the time. The stress was manageable at that point, instead of a fist throttling my neck. The stress is back though, but different now. It's not just about them, its about me.

Since, the whole point of my existence is helping, but I've been more bad than good lately. More evil than helpful.

"Having this conversation." I tell him.

He looks at me, confused. "Lee, we're all worried sick."

Yeah, sure you all are. I'm the one who's worried sick. My head has practically fallen off its shoulders. My brain feels like its caving in on itself, and I don't know what to do. I have no purpose.

"Just leave, Newt."

He doesn't leave, instead stepping closer. His hand reaches for mine, and I knock it away. There is no force to my hand, but he allows me to push him off.

"Please, just leave," I'm no longer asking. I've forgotten how to ask. Instead, I beg.

"I'm not leaving you," he grabs hold of my hands again, but I shrug out of his grip.

Backing away, my spine finds the wall. This time, he does not move to grab me. His hands don't shoot towards me.

"I. Don't. Want. You," every syllable I enunciate carefully.

He stiffens finally. As if the words echo in ways I cannot hear. Maybe I am hurting him, but for once I do not care. This is hurting me as much as it is hurting him.

"I know, Leo," he looks down. "I know."

Neither of us moves, because neither of us can bear it. So instead, I sink to the floor, in a ball. He does not move closer to me. I am grateful, and I am tired.

When I open my eyes, he is asleep against the wall near me. It is still dark out, and my back hurts from the hard surface behind it.

I get up and creep out of the room.


	22. I could be making sense

Dawn 22

Minho thinks I am sleeping. He shuffles out of bed, the fabric ruffling across my back. I barely slept last night. By barely, I mean not at all. It's not the Ben thing. The Ben thing doesn't suck quite so much anymore, unless I think about it.

"You're amazing," he mumbles clumsily.

I smile, unable to help that happiness that erupts from within me. "You're better."

He collapses down on the bed. His weight causes the mattress to squeak. I sink towards him.

"Get lost," I mutter, rolling away from him.

He pulls me back in, and I laugh, trying to playfully shove him off me. Minho only holds me tighter. "I can't leave."

"You're going to be late," I giggle, taking my pillow and shoving it into his face.

He rolls off me, falling onto his back. Dropping the white pillow on the ground, he stares up at the ceiling. As if he expects to see stars. There is nothing but a wooden building.

I love the Homestead. It has been hard to accept, but I do. The Glade is my home. I care deeply for everyone, and they do for me. We are a team, one who won't abandon each other. That's what I hope anyway. It's what I saw after the Gathering. Winston even apologised for going so harshly on me.

This is a sort of coalition.

Although, I feel a bit abandoned anyway. Leo has been off lately.

"Any big plans for the day?" He asks, looking at me. "Miss me every second that I'm gone?"

I laugh out loud, sitting up. My hair falls over my shoulder, and I look at him out of the bottom corner of my eyes. "I was actually planning on screwing Thomas, as a thank you for saving Alby's life."

Those aren't my plans. Maybe I will thank Thomas, but first I have to find Leo. I need to figure out what happened to her the night Minho almost died.

"Alby's?" He questions, leaning in closer to me. "What about my shuck life?"

"It can shuck itself," I pull myself out of the bed, braiding my hair behind my head. I still feel queasy, and if there is one thing I've learned from the last few days, its that I should always have my hair up.

He places a kiss on my neck, before moving towards the door. "I will be back two hours before the Doors close. Just for you."

I smile at him as he runs out the door. Maybe I'm not entirely comfortable with him going back out there so soon, but I've got to sit on this and pretend I am anyway. Life's got to go on.

It's why I'm choosing to ignore the memory of Ben.

I walk out of the room, at least ready to pretend I am ready to start the day. Fry is going to want me in the kitchen, but he won't give me klunk for being late. Boys are generally nice enough with me when I want to not follow the rules. Rules are jokes anyway.

Hopefully Leo will be upstairs somewhere. In the Med-room probably, taking care of that unconscious girl. She called it in early last night, so I don't know why she wouldn't be up now.

The door is open when I walk in, but Leo isn't there. Neither is Ella, even though she normally sleeps in here. The unconscious girl is the only one here. She lies down against the bed, her hair sprawled around her head in a sweaty mess. She hasn't woken up yet, and I think I'd be surprised if she did.

I mean, it kind of sucks. Not that I know anything about her, but I get the feeling that we'd get along. Maybe she'd be normal, not like the other girls. They're all shucked.

I move closer to her and see Newt. He is asleep, curled in a ball, on the other side of the bed. The floor is hard, so I have no idea why he would've fallen asleep here. Kneeling down, I lean over him, shaking his arm.

"Hey, Newtie," he stirs a little, his eyes fluttering open slowly. "What are you doing?"

Newt breathes in sharply. His eyes flutter open, and he raises a hand in defense. He looks around, searching the room. "What time is he?" He asks, placing a hand against what I imagine is his incredibly sore head.

"Were you here all night?" I ask.

He nods, opening his eyes even more. His hair sticks up in every which direction, and I almost get the need to laugh at the sight. He's adorable when he is tired.

"Is it morning?" He asks.

This time, I can't help but laugh when I sit down next to him. "At this rate you'll miss breakfast, but I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I didn't help cook it, so it's bound to be klunk."

"Right," he nods, rubbing his eyes and looking at me. He stands up, spinning around on his feet, and I can't help but follow him. "Where did Leo go?"

She was here? There is a perfectly find room the Builders made us, with four beds in it. I never sleep in it, but I assumed Leo did. She was here with Newt last night?

"Didn't see her," I shrug my shoulders. "Why were you here?"

"Where did she go?" He asks, panic rising in his throat. He shoots an arm up gesturing at the door behind me but I force his arm down. "Is she still in the Homestead?"

"Calm down," I ask. His nervous stutter makes me nervous too. Something isn't right.

He goes to charge past me out the door, but I am quicker. The door slams, screeching along its hinges. He stops short, staring at me as I place my back against the wood. "You're not leaving Newt."

"I need to go find Leo," he tries to pull me off the door, but I shove him back.

He is too nice to hurt me, but I don't share the sentiment. No matter what, he isn't leaving. He's acting way too weird. Besides, maybe he hurt Leo last night. After Ben, I've learned there isn't anyone I can trust all the way. Leo needs to be protected.

Besides, Newt looks like he is going to explode. He backs up away from me, running his hands through his hair. He finally decides to sit on the free bed in the room, burying his head in his hands.

"What did you do?" I ask, moving closer to him. I was right when I said he shucked her all up. "Did you hurt her?"

"I don't shucking know," he's off the bed now, moving over to the window. He stares outside, down at the Glade, before moving away and back towards me. "I'm worried about her. We need to find her."

When he moves forward I let him collide with my chest. He doesn't push, turning around and walking back. He runs for me. His chest hits mine, and I fall into the door. He stumbles and crashes against the ground, and I stand above him.

"How do you not know if you hurt someone?" I can feel bile rising in my throat, but I choke it down. What did he do? Did she ask him out, and he turned her down? I couldn't imagine Newt laying a hand on her, but I don't know what to think anymore. "Newt, what did you do?"

"I didn't mean to shuck it up," there are tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. "I wasn't thinking. She apologised, like it was her fault."

I'm on the ground, kneeling down next to him. I force him to sit up and stare me in the face. "Did you shucking force her to..."

"Shuck no," he rips himself free from me, skidding back across the floor. He's on his feet now, and I am forced to follow him up. Even though my bones feel rigid. "Of course to shuck not. Is that who you think I am? You think I'm shucking Ben?"

"All I know is you're attacking crazy, and Leo is not okay," I push towards him, and he holds his ground. "You two aren't talking, and she isn't eating or laughing anymore. And for some shuck reason she says she could get a Keeper banished, but I don't think she meant Gally, and we both know she isn't shacking Alby, like everyone keeps saying."

Newt doesn't say anything. He rakes his hands through his already messy hair. Blood flushes his cheeks, which I can only catch glimpses of as he turns around. I move to face him, forcing him to look at me. He is crying.

"I want to shucking help her," he manages to say. "Shuck, Dawn... I just... it wasn't... I kissed her."

I freeze. That's it? He just kissed her?

"I couldn't help myself, you know?" He continues on. "I was upset. I thought Alby and Minho were... I thought... she was there. Leo helped me. I was so out of it, and then she started talking about loving someone and the other person not knowing, and I thought it could be me. But it wasn't, and I kissed her anyway."

He shoves past me but doesn't leave the room. Pointing at the door, he rambles on. "Now she is out there, and she is alone, and I get it. I know, and I can help her, but I sent it all to shuck. I had to shucking kiss her, and then she apologised like it was her fault. Like I hadn't tried to make her like me. She never will."

He doesn't know that. Maybe she does. Maybe she will. "Newtie-"

"Don't," he shoves off my fingers as I reach for him. "She won't. She likes girls, Dawn. She's in love with you."

If I said I was shocked, I'd be lying. I knew. From the way she talks to me, from how I hear her talk to others, part of me knew she thought of me as more than a friend. I just thought, maybe if I could pawn her off on Newt, she'd forget about me. I thought maybe she liked girls and boys.

From the way Newt's chest huffs, I know I am wrong.

The door creaks open. Jeff stands on the other side, staring at us. He has a plate of eggs and fruit in his hand. In the doorframe, he almost seems to shrink.

"Are you alright?" He looks past Newt, straight for me. "We heard shouting."

I don't think he heard what about. If he had, he wouldn't be asking me if I was okay.

I nod, looking down at the floor. Remembering where I am. I'm fighting with Newt in a room with an unconscious girl, because he loves someone who doesn't love him back. Which isn't his fault, but I accused him of hurting Leo. Just before today, I would've trusted Newt with my life, and now I am accusing him of crazy things?

I don't think much about Ben anymore. Especially since his death. It hasn't permeated my brain. I've sort of just accepted it as a fact of life. Now, I realise it has done more than haunt my thoughts.

It has changed how I think, and I hate that.

I move out the door, not saying good-bye to anyone, and rushing down the stairs.


	23. I could be clean

Michelle 23

He's gone.

I was supposed to feed the chickens before dinner, but it is now dinner, and I am hiding in the Bloodhouses.

None of them get it. Gally is gone. He left me, actually this time. I don't get it. He tells me he loves me, and he leaves. Jealous of Dave all the time, angry I was forced to work in here, nervous when he asked me to tell him I liked him; Gally felt all the ways he was supposed to feel. Emotions have meaning. He doesn't get to just leave me.

I'm not going to be upset about it though. There isn't a reason too. I'm better than him. If I really wanted Dave, I could have him. Honestly, I could have pretty much anybody I wanted in this shuck place.

If he is going to abandon me, I'm abandoning him.

"Newt's still looking for you," Winston walks in the door, shutting it behind him with his foot and dropping the plates on the table. "Told him you didn't show up for work today."

I'm sort of glad to that effect. One of those shucking rules is do your part, but it's a load of klunk. I am not doing anything unless they shucking force me. Besides, that's not something Newt'll banish me for. Worse, I get two weeks in the Slammer. And then, a bunch of boys will call this whole thing by its name.

A prison.

First, the boys go after Gally from the second he gets here. He gets stung and they don't give a shuck. Everybody just automatically assumes he kills Nick. Then, once I get here, it's the same thing. Maybe it's because they are threatened that we are on to them.

The reason I didn't go with Gally is because I believed they were innocent, but now I know it's my fault. All those Keepers are evil, and I bet the girls are too. They wanted him to run out. Abandonment is a bridge they built. I will burn it to the ground.

I don't know what to think. I can't decide if I hate Gally, or the Keepers, or just myself. He ran away like a coward, but they were doing the evil deeds.

"Shuck Newt." I mutter, slamming my fists against the counter. "Shuck their fucking witch hunt. They got Gally to leave."

"Gally left because he is a klunkhead," Winston takes of whatever shucking food he brought in. He chews loudly, and he is so greasy. On a physical level, he is disgusting.

"You don't know klunk," I argue, my voice low.

"I know that he thought Thomas was evil, so he decided to go kill himself," Winston argues.

I'm moving off, away from where I sulk on the table, over to Winston. He is much taller than me, so as I try to intimidate him, I find him intimidating me back. He carries a threat on his shoulders and anger in his fists. He drops the fork he is holding as he stares at me.

"You got a shucking problem with it?" He asks, eyeing me up and down. "I thought you were the kind of girl who liked the truth."

"Shut your shucking trap before I shut it for you."

He rolls his eyes, stepping back from me. "Please. You are what, five feet tall? I'd break all your bones in one second."

I wait for him to say something to provoke me, but that's the end of the sentence. He's too smart.

"That's what I thought," he smiles, looking at me. He takes one step forward, hanging down over top of me. "Behind that tough persona I can see who you really are."

"And what am I?" I ask, my voice thick and heavy. It's as if there is a surge of power rushing through me.

Winston smiles, looking me up and down. "Weak and in love."

My fist rises up, smashing him in the cheek. His head swings to one side, as he stumbles over. Blood spits out over his mouth, on his teeth and then on to the floor. He coughs, laughing the whole time.

"You hit like a girl." He smiles, red teeth and a drooling smirk.

I hit him again, and this time he stumbles over. Hitting the ground, he coughs. Breathing won't work for him. Not when he won't hit me back.

He manages to pull himself up on to his hands, although he sways quite a bit.

When he is up, he takes one look at me and shoves me backwards. I hit the ground, sliding backwards. The wood burns against my skin; I can feel my back bleeding from the splinters that no doubt fill it. My head slams into cupboard behind me, and I can feel it aching.

The floor spins beneath me when I stand on it. Winston is already moving closer to me. He grabs me by the jaw, shoving my head into the cupboard behind me. I try to pull forwards, but he only slams me back against the wood. The tips of my shoes dangle off the ground, and my hand grip his as I try to shove him off me.

I attempt to kick him, but his grip on me tightens. The air in my throat constricts, and I start to wheeze. I can't help it, even though I don't want him to get the satisfaction.

I dig my nail into his arm until I feel blood rushing out of the wound. He doesn't move.

I search the counter around me for anything I can use. My nails scrap against a cutting board, only a few inches away. My vision is blurring as I huff. Winston sees where I look, and with his free hand he tries to grab the board as well. I kick him in the stomach, and he drops me.

I roll on to the ground as I wheeze. My lungs won't inflate as I try to gasp for air. I can't see anything; I only hear my throat sinking in on itself. I lift myself off the wooden floor, stumbling into a wall further up.

When I hit him, I fall against the ground again.

Winston picks me up. His face is red, and there is blood spilling out his lips. He lifts me up by the collar of my shirt, forcing me to stare into his eyes. Our chests rise and fall, again and again.

Then, I kiss him. His blood runs into my mouth, and I can taste it. He isn't Gally. That's all I can think as my mouth moves against his lips. His hands are still, and they don't know what to do. They don't know to take me and to hold me and to pour into me.

Winston's lips are uncomfortable hot, and uncomfortable salty, and uncomfortably stiff. He continues to press his lips against mine. I grab at his neck, pulling him in closer to me. He stiffens, but finds his way towards me. His hands slowly make their way to my sides, but are unable to burrow into my skin.

He isn't Gally. He isn't even as good as Dave. Winston is gross and his mouth is bleeding.

I shove him off of me, and he simply stares at me, waiting for an answer. Blood dribbles down his chin. His cheek is swollen and red, but he doesn't seem to care. I doubt he even noticed we kissed.

"One of the pigs got squeamish," Winston stares straight forward. "It kicked me in the face and knocked you to the ground. Right?"

I don't bother answer. As I leave, I hit him in the chest with my shoulder. The door slams shut behind me.

There is nowhere for me to go. The freaking Slopper who looks like he's seven and has curly ginger hair sees me, and actually runs away. He was sitting with some other Slopper kid who just freezes on the spot as I walk past. I wish these kids could get a handle on things.

"Woah, klunk Michelle," Minho calls from behind me. He stops running as he catches up. "You look like you got face-shacked by a cheese grater."

That's oddly specific.

"Thanks," I mutter, turning off. I wipe Winston's blood off with the back of my hand, only causing it to smear across my cheeks.

Minho moves up beside me again, not realising I'm telling him to screw off. He removes some sort of handkerchief from his belt and shoves it at me.

I stop, turning to stare at him, waiting for an exclamation.

"I'm not shucking around Mich," he uses the nickname, and I almost shutter. "Newt'll have your head in if he sees that. He's pretty shucked today."

"It was a pig," I mutter, but take the cloth and wipe up the blood anyway.

Minho raises and eyebrow at me, a smirk on his face. "That's not your blood, Mich. I can tell when a shank is bleeding."

I roll my eyes, dropping the bloody handkerchief on the ground. Minho glares at me. As he picks it up, I walk away.

He follows after me, because that's the kind of day I'm having.

"You're just going to draw attention," I grumble, but he pays me no notice.

"Your back is bleeding. Need Jeff?" I am both pissed and relieved he doesn't offer me Leo. The last thing I would ever do is let one of those shanks touch me, even if they're into each other. Leo would make this a pain in the back, more so than it already is. The less she knows the better.

"Just leave me alone," I shove past him.

Minho won't take no for an answer. He darts in front of me, staring me down. "Take care of yourself Michelle."

I crinkle my eyebrows, staring at him, before shoving forward. He can't be serious. Ordering me to take care of myself like I'm not already perfectly able.

I round the corner, into the bathrooms behind the Homestead. Minho finally doesn't follow me.

We have one mirror in the Glade. In the bathroom, above the sinks.

I see my reflection in it.

The blood on my face has dried. It is so dark it almost seems brown, unlike the fire engine of hair that surrounds me. Which is a mess by the way, strands of hair thrown about me in a humble jumble. It looks like I've been rolling around on the floor. I look like I've been dragged across the ground. I look and I look and I look, and I notice that I can see myself, but it's not me.

That girl who is staring at me doesn't have my face. She has the face of a girl who is broken and ripped and lost.

Gally is gone.

I grab the mirror the wall, by the tiny nail which it hangs, and smash it down against the sink. It shatters into a million pieces, which shoot on if every direction. It slices my arms, and smashes against the hard ground. The sound rings in my ears.

I toss the broken mirror against the ground and rub my face with my hands.

I'm not going to cry.


	24. I could be violet

Ella 24

I made it all the way to sit on the grass with Zart for dinner. He has blonde curly hair, up in tight ringlets. I know I know him, but it feels like I've never seen him before. The world is existing in some new technicolour. The world is void of smoke, but with that there is much less violet. Whatever that means anyway.

Solution: They've tricked our brains into not seeing the colour. That must be part of what they fixed.

"You're feeling better?" Zart finally asks the question which has been on the tip of his mind since I walked out of the building. I think he is surprised.

I nod, up and down slowly. Better is what he wants to hear. Better is an absence of hallucinations. They may have been hallucinations, but they were mine, and they were hers, and this is infinitely worse. The world is so clear I've even been able to count seconds again.

It has been sixteen seconds since Zart last spoke. Which means, I've been silent for what I imagine is longer than all the years I've been alive.

I can see my hands as I pick at the berries on my plate. My skin is dark and peeling. The berries taste sweet; I have forgotten what it is to taste. No matter how much I focus on what I have gained, I have lost her, and I have lost thoughts, and I have lost weeks and months of time.

Clint was foolish and I am isolated. No sound shall reach my ears. No nothing happens. Is a lack of something nothing? This is a great lack. This absence is painful and heartache, and never ending.

She is gone.

He nods, turning back to his food. There is a secret behind his lips, but I'm only recently use to seeing them, so I can't discern what it is he hides behind his grimace. Maybe it's about Thomas, since he did train the boy the other day.

I can't seem to ask.

Solution: The thing they put in our bodies suppresses our brains.

"I left the violets for you to pick," I don't remember why he makes sure I know this. At least I appreciate the sentiment he leaves me. Maybe one day I will remember.

I need to talk to that unconscious girl.

"Thank you," I stand up, moving away. He doesn't chase after me. It could be because I forget which direction I'm going. It's into the building right by here. It's getting late anyway, and I'm tired.

I enter the building, moving inside. I turn a corner, and walk into the supply closet. This wasn't where I was trying to go, although when I think about where I was trying to go. Lately, I've been getting a bit lost. Not entirely sure what's happening. Not entirely sure what is thinking.

"You're Ella, right?" It's that kid who's name I forget. Which I know, isn't very specific, but I can remember knowing it. Probably. "I'm Chuck."

I smile, trying to remember what language we are speaking. All the words sometimes get caught up in my head, and I don't understand where they are going.

"You never talk much," he notices, like I don't know. I don't really know, but I'm not ignorant to it. Like, I live in this body on this Earth, and I know that I'm odd, but I know I was built weird.

The best way to answer that observation is with silence. His name is Chuck. My feet feeling like they are teetering beneath me causes me to forget what we are talking about. It causes me to go back to a place I do not remember.

I know what is happening.

"I need paper," I tell him.

He looks at me funny. Glancing around the hallway for a sign of anyone, he remains silent. It is when the coast is clear that he shuts the closet door behind me and begins to speak.

"Why do you need paper?" Chuck asks, quietly.

"I need to write," I tell him plainly, because the answer is rather obvious. I need paper to write. Origami isn't really my speed, so I don't know what else he is expecting from me. Perhaps it makes sense that he is a Slopper. Has the brains, it seems, of pretty much everyone else here. Uncaring about the outside world. Trying to escape; looking forward over searching behind us. The answers go with the details.

"Do I need to get Clint?" He asks.

I turn around, leaving the room and heading out the door. He is running in front of me, turning around to try to stop me from doing whatever I am doing.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't..." I try to walk past him. I don't have the time to wait. "Listen Ella."

I stop, staring at him and waiting for a response. The proper one will never come. He won't tell me anything.

When he doesn't speak, I push past him heading down the stairs. I don't know who to ask for paper.

"Hey, wait," he rounds in front of me, following me into the foyer. "I can get you some paper, and like a marker or something. Just wait here."

He runs away, out the front doors. I am not entirely sure where he is going. For a second, I worry I might forget why I need paper. It is already slipping from me, second after second.

I know what happened to me. I know why it is slipping so easily, and I need to write it down.

Half of my brain was attached, which means half had forgotten. The other half, however, remembered. It's why this is so hard.

Now, both have been attached. One half has forgotten all before the Maze, and the other remembered. The first half was not reattached, so it remembers the memories in this Maze, while the other has forgotten. One half for each period of time. I can only remember remembering, because I remember having remembered. At the same time, I am only getting glimpses of what happened while we were here.

I remember the girls, because I remember remembering them, and I remember coming here. I remember Zart, but only barely, and I remember Alby, but only just. I don't know what this place is, or why I'm here, but I know I was trying to figure out.

And I can remember having visions of her, but I forget her sight. I forget her touch, her smell. They robbed me of experience and have left me knowing. It is infinitely worse. This is unbearably lonely. It is an empty chair in a full classroom. It is a reminder that there is something vacant. An empty bed. An empty girl. One who I would not recognise if I saw her.

Chuck comes back in, with a sheet of paper and a pen. "I had to take it from the Maproom. They have enough to last them until the next supply shipment, so don't take anymore. I could get in real trouble."

We are in real trouble.

I sit on the ground, and Chuck follows me there. I write, and I write, and I write.

Solution: Create one.


	25. I could be falling

Leo 25

The bitter air bites against my skin. I don't mind the feeling. It reminds me I am real, and tangible, and living. My lungs rise, and fall, and even if I am alone, I don't feel empty. Hollow might describe it better. Not that there should be anything, but that there is absence.

My shoes hit the edge of the building as they dangle off the roof of the Homestead. When I first got here, I never would've done this. Even still, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. If I lean forward, I would slip and fall. It scares me, but less than before. It's hard to see during the night since everything real and everything imaginary blends together.

I don't know why I'm feeling so weird now. We're alive, and no one is going to be banished. Perhaps I realised all my pain was for nothing. It must be that I recognize there is more to come. I will burn again. There will be no more flesh on this bone. No more shuffling along this mortal coil. The thought is frightening, but the thought is human.

I messed it up with Newt. Really, I shouldn't have kissed him. I screwed it up, and now I've lost him as a friend. Why must I always push away the people I love? First, Dawn, and now Newt.

The Med-jacks are no longer my friends. I know they did something to Ella, but Jeff won't tell me what, even though I've asked. His dark skin turned sheet white and he ran out of the room. Clint will provide no answers, as always. Not only did I fail Ella, who walks around like the phantom of a skeleton, but my colleagues have left me.

I failed Michelle too. Not just when I failed to save her banishment, but when I didn't stop the boys from locking her away again. When I told the boys there was another girl to banish for breaking the rule, I put her in danger. All to save Dawn.

Her story is no better. In loving Dawn, I have failed her. I burden myself and the other girls. All these feelings inside me make me liable. Maybe we could've treated Alby quicker if I had let her run into the Maze. If I had let her reveal her relationship, Ben would never have been able to attack her. Maybe he wouldn't even be dead right now, if I hadn't tried and failed to protect her.

So, I sit on the roof, in the cold, waiting for an answer to come to me. Maybe I'm supposed to slide just a little further along, until my legs hang vertically off the sides. The answer might come if I push myself just a little bit over.

I fail and fail and fail again. Am I the one keeping us asunder?

Some one steps behind me, and I spin around. The weight shifts me, and I feel myself sliding closer to the edge. My breath hitches in my throat. What am I doing? I could fall. I could seriously fall, and I think I might've let myself. Even still, I am so close to letting go. If I fell, would I die? Do I want to die? I know Nick did when he hit the ground, but he landed on his head. That would be a mess; do I want to be a mess? Even in death, will I continue to tax my friends?

Dawn is behind me, her hands raised carefully, as if she is standing in front of a beast that might attack her. Maybe she has always stood like this before me. Maybe she fears me.

My weight shifts, and I hear the roof panels creaking under me. My breathing increases, until it is climbing higher and higher in my throat. It is the only sound in the night air.

"Lee," Dawn begins the sentence, and retracts it, and begins again. "Lee, what are... where are... Leo, are you alright?"

I nod carefully, clinging to the edge with every muscle in my fingertips. My stomach growls and I wonder if she hears it. Does she feel my sorrow, since sometimes I feel like the Glade swims in my sadness? Most nights I sleep in my room alone. Most days I choose to not eat lunch if I can avoid it. Most mornings I struggle to peel myself out of bed. I do it though, because what other option do I have?

"We didn't see you at dinner," she begins, looking at me. "Newt wanted to know where you went."

Even though I shucked it up, he's still worried about me. I'm so pathetic; I managed to fall for people who could never love me back, and then who have to take time from their lives to worry about me. Why must I bother them?

"Fry won't notice if I steal food for you," she begins.

I shift closer to the edge. My knees float in the air, well in front of me. Is this what freedom is like? The ability to jump is not far from me. I can choose my own destiny. I could maybe stop it if I really, truly wanted.

I don't though. I think I just want to have the power to control it all. To decide I can start and stop the world as I see fit is the freedom I need. This moment is necessary.

Jumping, however, is something I could never do.

"I'm not hungry."

I hear her sit down behind me, but I don't see her. "Have you eaten today Leo?"

I don't bother answering, since I'm not good at lying. So, the silence speaks for us. It eats at all the thoughts that I have, and all the memories that I don't.

Dawn is up next to me, her feet sliding off the roof and into the air next to mine. While my knuckles turn white from the grip that I hold the roof, she is steady and still. Almost calm in the way she waits. Nothing ever seems to bother her. Shuck, she thought she could be banished today and she's doing fine. Even the Ben thing she has been quick to recover from. I ache and my brittle bones shatter and are blown away in the cold wind.

Then, I remember that she is human, just like me. She wouldn't speak when he attacked her. She threw up when the boys mentioned banishment. Dawn is tangible, and real.

"Do you want my shirt?" She seems to shiver at the gust as well but pulls the blue fabric off her shoulders. In just a tank top, her body seems paler than ever before. Draping over my shoulders, she continues speaking. "I don't know how you manage to sit up here for so long. It's cold,"

"How did you know I was up here?" I ask her, my voice cracking at the words.

She shrugs, leaning into me. Trying to rip the heat out of me, as if I have something to give her. There is nothing in me that is warm. Maybe this is what embarrassment is.

I kissed Newt after all, and he doesn't like girls. He looked so shocked, and so disgusted. Why did I have to ruin something else?

"Michelle saw you," Dawn tells me. "She was looking for you."

I chuckle, and Dawn flinches away at the sound. "Yeah, so who did she fight this time?"

Dawn goes silent. Her cheeks are either bright red from the wind-burn, or they are upset at my suggestion. I'm not wrong. My money is on Jackson since he is such a jerk all the time. I bet he was waiting for Gally to leave to pounce. No one needs me except to cover up bad things they did. And I can't even do that properly half the time.

I don't even know how to tell her that I'm not going to jump, because five minutes ago I wasn't entirely sure. Maybe that's how I know I wouldn't do it. Leaping off a building is the kind of thing you do when you are sure its what you want; nothing more nor less.

"It's getting colder," she seems to talk to herself. Her body twitches in the stale air.

I don't mind it. Right now, I can't see much of anything. The night is so dark that I can't see much past my shoes. From here, I can't even tell we are enclosed by the Walls. It's not the claustrophobia of this situation that bothers me. I dislike the everyday politics of this existence.

"We should go inside," she tells me, though neither of us make the move to stand up.

She is waiting for me to go first. I kind of just want to be alone here. It's really freeing. Like, I still feel like klunk, but a calmer klunk.

"We can start a fire," she just stares at me for a second, as my words trail off.

I'm up on my feet, moving away from her. She takes a second to follow me. Crossing the building, I find the spot I entered. Carefully, I dangle my feet off the edge. Blood pumps through my veins; it is much scarier getting down then climbing up. My feet hit the windowsill, and I slowly pull myself inside the Homestead.

I don't wait for her. Building. In seconds I am across the room, moving further away from the roof. I grab matches on my way out the front door. Dawn's footsteps follow behind me as I move to the Bricknick shed. I pick up a few logs, stacking them in my arms haphazardly while trying to hold the matches.

Dawn tries to reach to help me, but I flinch away at her hands.

I move back across the field. The logs land in the bonfire pit with a thud, though I doubt it was loud enough for anyone to stir. I head back to the shed, where Dawn still waits. She hands me the kindling that we keep ready, and I take it from her. It too joins the pile of logs down in the bonfire pit.

I light a match and throw it on to the kindling. The flame is quick to consume the small twigs and bits of paper but take longer to eat their way up on to the logs. Soon enough, the fire cracks and roars high above us, consuming all the oxygen in the vicinity. I manage to breathe despite the lack of air. I feel the smoke filling my lungs.

Dawn is next to me, fidgeting slightly. I know I'm being weird, but I can't explain why I need this. It's too odd, too painful, too deliberate not to mention.

"You feeling better?" She asks me carefully, waiting for an answer.

I shrug. I'm not better but I'm not any worse off than I started. I just see things from a new perspective. "Are you warmer?"

She nods carefully, turning her attention to the flames.


	26. I could be nervous

Dawn 26

My stomach lurches, and I am up and running across the room. I trip and fall in the hall, barely making it to the closet before I start throwing up. Vomit is really gross, and my head hurts from sleeping in a ponytail, but most mornings I've been sick lately.

I would ask Leo for help but has enough on her plate right now.

My throat burns as I continue to pour out the contents of last night's dinner, and lunch, and maybe even breakfast. Even if I stop eating, the nausea doesn't go away. Instead, I'll just start bloody dry-heaving like I did during the meeting. Which was super not a good time, to say the least. Would rather not do that again if I could avoid it.

Would rather not be staring at the contents of my stomach this early in the morning. My face must be so red, since it really burns. So does my stomach and my throat though, so that's nice. Drool escapes my lips, hot and messy. Really gross, actually, and I'm not one who is super sensitive to gross stuff. It's not really how I work. It's honestly just a pain, and both physically and metaphorically.

Not only do I have to throw this out, again, without anyone catching me, but I literally feel like a piece of klunk. Seriously, would not recommend this. Zero out of ten.

"Are you okay?" Minho asks, behind me.

He shuts the door, moving down next to me. I start vomiting again, into the bucket. He helps hold my hair behind my head, rubbing my back. My eyes are watering. How do I even have more food in me?

I lean backwards, pushing the bucket in front of me. You know, it feels better having vomited than it did before, although I also don't necessarily like that I've puked my guts up before the crack of dawn.

Did I mention, unrelated, that it is shucking awful that I'm named Dawn? My Mum is probably a sadist. Wherever she is.

"Should I get Clint?" Minho is crouching next to me, rubbing my shoulders up and down.

I shake my head. If he gets Clint, Clint's just going to get Leo. She really can't deal with my sickness right now. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if she had jumped last night. For some reason, she is really upset.

Which is why I didn't tell her that Newt confessed to me that he loves her, or that he told me she loves me. That would just make a bigger mess for her right now. She doesn't deserve it.

"Are you sure?" Minho pesters on. "Dee, I love you, but you look like you crawled out of the sewer. Like, a rat. Like klunk, seriously."

I almost laugh, but my stomach continues to garble. Leaning against the wall, I turn to glare at him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Min."

He shrugs, sympathetic but also honest. If there is one person who will always tell me the truth, it's Minho. I can always trust him to tell me a harsh reality. Exhibit A, I look like klunk. I feel it too though, so I guess I'm not surprised.

"I'm just worried about you," he manages. "You make it way too easy to worry. I know Fry's food is bad, but not like this."

I know that. Doesn't seem to matter, since I can't stop vomiting. It keeps happening, over and over, and nothing is calming my stomach. Something is stressing me out. Probably Leo, also probably Ben, and also probably Minho's feelings. I feel like I'm becoming Michelle, harbouring up these emotions, but talking about it makes me want to throw up more.

"I need to get going to train the Runner," his voice is soft, and his eyes softer. "I don't want to leave you, but I need to train Thomas. Shank is out of prison today, and if I don't get him Gally might show up out of nowhere and beat the klunk out of him."

Right, that guy. Both Thomas and Gally have been MIA, though Gally more permanently. I still haven't seen Thomas well enough to properly thank him. I've been a bit preoccupied. "Go get him. I'll be fine."

"I can go get Clint..."

He trails off when I shake my head. "I'm just going to lie down. Trust me Min."

He nods, standing up and moving away from me. "I'll trust you, just this once. I'll be back tonight."

"Play it safe," I warn him, looking up.

He flashes a smile at me. "No need to play it safe. I've got Thomas to help me."

He leans down, squeezing my hand once, before leaving the room and heading outside. I stare at him as he moves down the hall, traveling further and further away from me.

I haven't been able to see Minho in so long. Like, I've spent time with him, but not been with him and just hung out. We've been a bit too busy to be casual with one another. Everything has been a bit too much.

I still can't believe he is alive.

There's no time left; the sun will rise soon. I pick the bucket up off the ground, carrying it out the front door and around to the bathroom. No one else is inside, so I dump out the vomit in the dark, and drop the vomit. No use in bringing it back if its dirty, and I doubt any one of the Sloppers will think to ask anybody about it. Unless Chuck finds it, which would suck. Although, I could just say I think I'm allergic to apples.

Never really liked them anyway.

I leave, heading back outside. My feet still look like they could sway beneath me.

"Dawn?" Dave is in front of me, staring me down. "You alright?"

What is he doing up at this hour? He has been working with the Builders lately, since they are short a Michelle. "What are you doing awake?"

"That's not the point, you look like you might faint." He moves over, grabbing a hold of me and helping to move me to the Homestead. He sits me down on the front steps, plopping down next to me.

I lean against him, popping my head down on his shoulder. Dave leans back into me, placing a hand cautiously on my knee. "You really, really shouldn't go into work today. You look green."

I feel green. Can somebody feel green? "Yeah, I know."

There isn't any use fighting it. Fry will get one look at me and send me packing. I feel better now. Still, if Dave doesn't want me there, Fry will listen.

"What are you doing up?" I ask.

He shrugs, careful not to move my head too much. "We're picking a new Keeper, probably. Or at least, one who is taking over until we vote on it."

So, I take it Gally isn't coming back. Good riddance. He is the worst.

"Is it going to be Doug?" I ask. "Doug's the only descent one of you lot."

Other than his association with Jackson, I don't mind Doug. From the looks she gives him, Michelle isn't the biggest fan. She doesn't have the best judge of character.

He shakes his head. "I think it should be Adam. He's pretty level-headed, and gets the respect he deserves." Dave's voice trails up at the end of his sentence.

"But?" I wait for him to continue.

He sighs. I can't tell what his face looks like, but his silence says a lot. He stares forward, out into the blackness of the morning. As if he is expecting the sun to show up and give him an answer. "I've been there longer than him, and I'm a better Builder. Not like it matters."

Dave is so weird. "Why do you hang out in the Kitchen then?"

He shrugs again, being even more careful than he was originally. "I don't particularly like the Builders. Or building in general. Besides, I'm not a leader."

I can't really imagine Dave even trying to take charge of a situation. The idea seems almost comical to me.

"Are you sick?" Any chance he gets, he shifts the conversation off himself. I don't even dare to bring up Michelle, since I doubt that isn't going very well. He stopped talking about himself when he stopped asking for advice on how to fix things with her. Dave deserves happiness. Michelle is great, but he is simply too good for her antics.

Especially when he asks me if I'm doing well.

"I feel fine," I brush him off, leaning away.

His eyes widen. "How long?" He asks, firmly.

I know what he means. It's not what he says. "I-"

"Hey," Thomas is up and the steps, staring at us.

Minho stands behind him, pushing forward when he sees me. He smiles at me, and then at Dave. I'm really glad he isn't the jealous type. If he was, in this space surrounded by boys, I think I might lose my mind.

"Hey sweet thang," he winks.

"You are disgusting," I mock gagging.

He rolls his eyes, but I see the flinch of worry in his face. Not that he could ever make me throw up, but there is something wrong with my body. Something is not happening properly.

Thomas grins too, but Minho crosses his arms over his chest.

"You didn't think I was so disgusting last night," he squeezes between Dave and I, gesturing for Thomas to follow.

Dave irrupts in a chorus of laughter, although Thomas seems to turn ever single shade of red imaginable. I reach forward, hitting Minho lightly. His grin is infectious though, and I can't help myself in following along with his grin.

"You're a pig," I reiterate my point, even though I'm smiling. Not that I mind. I like that he can flaunt this out loud, for the whole Glade to hear.

Minho simply shrugs, grinning ear to ear. Looking at Thomas, he remembers what he was doing. "We going in or what?"

Thomas shrugs, avoiding my eyes. He seems sweet. Is this what all Greenies are like: squeamish and shy? "I don't know, sweet thang."

I burst out laughing. My whoops sting my throat, but I don't care. Minho rolls his eyes, shoving Thomas over. "You'd like to call me sweet thang, wouldn't you? I'm almost as hot as she is."

Minho constantly makes me roll my eyes. Thomas smiles at me, shrugging towards Minho. I'm glad there is someone to keep that boy in line.

Minho moves up the stairs, and Thomas follows in after him. I grab the Greenie's wrist to hold him back, and to draw his attention over to me. Though I can never properly thank him, I'm going to try.

"I owe you a drink, for saving his life," I say it low enough that as Minho walks in the Homestead, he doesn't hear me. "Really, you did do that. You saved everything."

Thomas nods, either unsure of himself, or of me.

"Don't listen to the rumours," both he and I know I'm talking about Gally and his friends. They keep trying to start klunk again, since they seem to think everything is Thomas's fault. "You are a good person, Thomas."

Thomas nods, smiling at me briefly. "I'll try not to."

"Seriously," I add. "They had them about me and the other girls when we got here. Now they are about you. It's all a load of klunk."

"Thank you," he flashes a grin quickly, moving in the Homestead after Minho. "I'll catch that drink later."

Once they are both gone, it is just Dave and me. He sits next to me still, leaning against me. "You didn't have to reassure Thomas. If he can handle himself in the Maze, I'm sure he can handle himself in here."

I think he really needed it though. I've learned a lot since I've gotten here. Now, I think I can see that everyone has a different story to tell, however brief. Appearance is not reality. He needed that.

"We'd better get going," I switch the subject so he moves on. "Fry will have our necks in if we don't."

He stands up, moving away from me. "You aren't going."

I follow him up, and he holds his hands up in defense. Sometimes I wish I didn't have people who cared about me, for the sole reason that too many people are over protective. Honestly, I'm not a glass doll. I can handle myself.

"Dave, I'm fine."

"You were throwing up," he counters, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll tell Fry, and he'll send you back too. If I say you just slept in, you can come back to prep for lunch, if you really are feeling fine."

We've reached a stalemate, and I know he is right. Maybe that's why I am angry.

When Dave doesn't yield, I sit back down. Well played Dave.


	27. I could be moving

Michelle 27

I am picking at the grass, trying to find myself fascinated by the green blades in my hands. They are over-grown, yet still small. Nobody ever cuts it, not just because we don't have time but because we have nothing to cut it with. I don't know why I'm thinking about it. I've got better things to be doing than waste my time.

Well, not many anymore. Gally is gone. Dave and I still aren't talking. I can't face Winston after what we did. Doug and Jackson are probably still lurking around.

"Hey," Dawn's voice rings out behind me. I don't look up at her, so she moves down to sit next to me. "Aren't you supposed to be at that meeting?"

"What meeting?" I was planning on paying her no mind, but now I'm interested. Barely interested. Even if I have been avoiding the Builders, I still am part of their circle. I still have a right to know about the meetings, or whatever.

"Aren't you guys picking a new Keeper, now that Gally is gone?" She asks gently.

My body, from my toes to my torso, stiffens. They are already picking a new Keeper? Gally has been gone for two days.

I am up on my feet, moving away from Dawn. Half of me expects her to chase after me, and the other half of me wants her to try and stop me. The third half, the strongest half, doesn't give half a klunk what she does, and just wants to go find their meeting.

I guess the fourth half is really bad at math.

I round the back of the Homestead, and there they all are sitting together.

Adam is the first one to notice me. Then, Doug, Dave, Dan, and a few I don't bother to know. All six of them sitting in a circle and staring at me. I can't tell if they are surprised I showed up or pissed. If anything, none of them have any right to be shocked to see me here. I belong here.

"You're picking a new Keeper?" I ask.

Dave is up on his feet, moving towards me. He stands directly in front of me, so close our breaths mix together. I don't know what I am expecting him to say. He doesn't offer any sort of response except the continuing rise and fall of his chest. His hair is so dark, and his eyes are so blue. I find myself falling deeper and deeper into them.

"Gally is gone, ain't he?" Adam offers, his voice quiet.

"Maybe she's hiding him in her bedroom."

I duck around Dave to see Doug. His face pales when his eyes land on mine. Dave grabs hold of my arm, the force behind it weak. He isn't forcing me, he is asking me.

"Why aren't I here?" I ask, looking around. "I'm a Builder, ain't I?"

"We thought you were moved to the Slicers," Adam tries to reassure me, glancing from Doug to me. "We didn't think you'd be coming back."

"Was moved to them because Ben was a wannabe rapist, but I bet ya'll knew that." I am surprised at the words racing out my mouth. Why am I even talking? Why am I giving them the time of day?

I shrug out Dave's hand, joining their circle. No one is going to send me away, either out of fear, or out of the realization that just six Builders won't get the job done on time. I know my klunk; I belong here just as much as the rest.

No one says anything for a minute. Eventually, Dave moves, sitting down next to me. His eyes avoid mine, but mine rest on his skin. Looking at him makes my stomach burn. Regret within me.

"So," Adam clears his throat, but adds nothing. Honestly, I hate the silence and the nervousness, and the shaking hands. Just get to the point.

"I think it should be Adam," Dave offers, again. "The spot belongs to him."

"Good that," Doug chimes in.

I roll my eyes. Adam is pretty much a push over, from as far as I can tell. He only held Doug off because he didn't want him to get banished. They are friends after all. It isn't the first time Adam has stopped Doug and I from fighting. I doubt it will be the last. The only one fit to lead this group is Gally. He's the boy who commanded both attention and respect.

"I still don't think it should be me," Adam protests.

Of course he would protest. He is oh so sweet and humble, and could never possibly imagine taking a leadership role. He would be klunk at the job.

"You're next in line, Dave," Dan adds, agreeing with Adam. "You've been here the longest."

Oh, would they all just knock it off and just start building the bathrooms? Not that those matter, but Gally could still come back. Why have they abandoned him so easily? Everyone here is a traitor. What happened to sticking together, and comradery, and all that other klunk everyone is always going on about? Solidarity or whatever.

"I am busy in the Kitchens," he argues. "Dawn's been sicker lately. Clint things she might make an illness breakout. She hasn't been there to take my role."

"Shove Minho in it," Doug suggests. "He's so keen to give up his spot as Keeper of the Runners."

"You're just pissed he promoted Thomas and not you." Someone else argues. "You're stuck being an alternate."

Doug runs? Since when has he ever been good at anything?

"Gally ran into the Maze because of Thomas," Doug crosses his arms over his chest. "Gally remembered him from the Changing. There is something fishy about Thomas."

"Nobody should let that kid in the shucking maze, don't care if he saved Minho's life or not." Doug gives me an odd glance, and I look down. Why am I agreeing with him? Every time Doug and I interact, its because he's suspicious of me, and he is wrong.

Although, I was suspicious of the girls at first too. Maybe this is just like Winston. He just needs a bit of convincing.

Winston, I imagine, is keeping me close because he doesn't trust me, so that at least has to make Doug different.

"That's not the point," Dave argues, his eyes reaching everyone's but mine. He skims over me as if I am the description in a novel. As if I am useless. "I'm too busy to be Keeper."

"Let's vote then," Adam offers.

"Let's," I agree, with Doug looking at me.

"So it's just Adam and Doug?" Another boy asks.

I roll my eyes, before Doug answers. "Obviously."

"All in favour of Adam?" Dave asks.

He raises his hand, as does Dan, and one of the other boys.

"Dave?" Adam asks.

Myself, Adam, that other boy, and surprisingly Doug raise our hands.

"That settles it," Adam resolves, acting as if he is Keeper for the last time. "Dave will be in charge."

"Someone will have to fill my spot in the Kitchen," Dave almost growls, finally finding the time to glare at me. His blue eyes are too harsh for his face. They make me feel queasy. Does he think this is somehow my fault? Maybe it is. If I hadn't been here, it would've been a tie. Or, maybe Doug would've voted for Adam. I'm as much a Builder as they are though.

"Send Michelle there," Doug mutters.

My eyes burn through his shirt, and he flinches back. Since we fought after Gally disappeared, he's been scared of me. Good.

"She is the girl," Dan affirms, before Doug wacks him in the back of his head.

"That's not why I said it slinthead," Doug mutters. "Why do you have to be a pig about it?"

"We will talk about it over breakfast," Adam offers.

He gets up, and a few of the boys follow him. I find myself sitting on the ground, picking at the grass, unable to move. I'll move back to the Slicers before I join Fry in the kitchen, but I'd still rather not do either. I'd rather be here, building with Gally, and struggling to ignore Dave.

Doug stands up, looming over me. Eventually I stand up to meet him at eye level.

"Don't expect just because you were shacking Gally that you knew him, or that you got him," Doug argues, staring me down. "You don't get to just get your way because you sleep with people."

"Really, that's what you think of us girls?" I cross my arms, refusing to back down. I know he won't hit me.

"No, believe it or not, I actually like the others. Leo was kind enough to bandage me up and not rat you out when you punched me in the face, and Dawn's fun as shuck. We get along just fine. It's you Michelle. You're the problem."

"You came at me with a knife," I step closer.

He maintains distance. It isn't because he is afraid of me though. His shoulders are slacked and his face still. Simply, he stares forward.

"I called Jackson off, and I didn't turn you in for hitting him. He deserved it. I didn't want that to go down like that."

I roll my eyes, backing away. Who the shuck does he think he is? Trying to absolve himself in my eyes? As if I'll forgive him for ruining my life day after day.

"You know, it's not me that's the problem," he frowns. "It's you Michelle. You're unbearable. If you weren't so miserable and angry, maybe we could've been friends. Instead, you decided to hit me in the face."

He shoves himself past me, not giving me time to formulate a proper response. I've never had someone be so open with me like that, besides Dave. And Dave does it in a Dave way that is almost like a guilt trip. It is for Dave's benefit not mine. Doug just tells me it like it is. Maybe he is helping me.

And, at the end of, Doug is able to walk away and enjoy the rest of his day.

AndI am stuck.


	28. We should be who we once were

Leo

Jeff can tell I'm being weird. Not that I'm upset anymore, but that there isn't any emotion passing through me. A numbness occupying my fingers and hands and bones. He leans against me, long after our shift is over, and ignores Clint as he calls for him. I don't know what else I expect him to do. Honestly, I don't know what I expect of me.

"You think she'll wake up," I say, after we sit in silence for a while, since I don't want to talk about anything else.

"Ella?" He tries to clarify. "Or Teresa?"

"Teresa," I'm a bit confused by his words, but I don't ask him to clarify. Ella has been up and a bout the pass few days. It seems as though he means metaphorically, since she exists in a groggy and incohesive state.

"Maybe," he shrugs. "The longer it takes, the less likely though."

Dawn peeks in through the doorway. I can feel the air in the room get lighter, as Jeff smiles. I'm a bit of a downer, but she fills the space in amazing ways. I try not to think about how I have let myself down, although it is hard.

"Can you give us a second alone?" She asks him.

Jeff gives her an odd look, so she clarifies. "Unless you really want to here the ins and outs of the menstrual cycle."

At this, Jeff stands up rather quickly and leaves the room. Dawn laughs at his panic, moving closer to me. She sits on the same bed as me, trying to smile, but ultimately failing.

"Do you want to talk about last night?" She asks, her voice soft. So, she lied to Jeff. Not that I expected anything different. She seems worried about me.

I shrug. I'm mostly embarrassed about the whole thing. "It's complicated."

"Well, though I'm a bit jittery, I'll manage to stay put for the whole story." She doesn't give me the option not to tell her.

I must tell her what's happening. There is no 'or else' and no begging. This is not even a binary system. I have to tell her.

"I guess, I think I have a stress problem," I tell her, beginning the story.

"Yeah, we've noticed," she tells me carefully. "You seem stressed all the time."

She knows about the trouble I've been having regarding eating, since I get nauseous a lot, so I don't know exactly where to go from here. "Are you still having nightmares?" It's easier to talk about her.

She nods, looking forward. "Sometimes, but I know what's in my head isn't what's happening. I know that it's my brain tricking me."

I guess that's a way to put it. Lately, I've just felt like Newt and I could never be friends again, which might be the problem, and like Dawn is just so much better than me. With her here on the ground with me, the thought feels less concrete. It slips away for a few seconds. Sometimes I get lost in the ideas buzzing around my head.

"You know we all are here for you, if you need anything?" She asks, continuing. She doesn't elaborate on who we are. "You aren't going to hurt yourself, right?"

"I wouldn't," realistically, even if I wanted to, I couldn't. There are people here who need me. There are more things I need to do. Life is more than this moment. Sometimes, I just need to breathe.

"I'm glad," she seems content with the answer. She looks down at her hands, before looking up at me. "Newt told me what happened."

That's why she's noticed. Not that I mind, I'm just surprised Newt said anything about it. I didn't think he would tell Dawn, even though he knows her. I don't think even Minho knows that Newt likes boys.

"Did he?" I ask, looking back.

She nods. "Yeah. He's really sorry, you know."

He has no reason to be. I'm the one who kissed him, and he doesn't like girls. I stand up, moving off the bed. I really don't want to have this conversation with Dawn, since I don't know what he told her. Maybe she knows I liked her.

Liked. The past tense of the words feels weird, but right at the same time. Because even if I don't get the girl at the end of it, I get a friend. And I think that matters to me more.

"Come on, let's go have fun."

Dawn

I am giggling into the bottom of a drink as we sit around the warming fire. Thomas stayed true to his word, and though he looks like he is going to pass out, he is sitting with me, having a drink. Leo and Minho stand off to the side, laughing about something I can't hear, and I'm happy to see the warm flush on her cheeks as she looks at Minho.

Not in like, a "hitting on your man" way. She likes girls. Besides, its more of an, "I'm more than a little intoxicated flush". Leo doesn't hold her liquor well.

"You didn't have to stay awake if you didn't want to," I laugh, nudging Thomas carefully. "I could've took you up on this tomorrow."

"I don't get how Minho isn't exhausted," Thomas mutters, his eyes practically shut. I doubt he hears a word I say. He is sweet though.

I laugh, "I guess he has had more practice."

Suddenly our log is full, as Fry slides Thomas over and plops down between us. "I take it you enjoyed your dinner, Tommy?"

Thomas nods, absent-mindedly. If he passes out here, on the spot, I wouldn't be surprised. He hasn't even touched his drink, unfortunately.

"Yeah, Tommy," I chuckle at the nickname, before sipping down the rest of the glass. "Shouldn't you be off to bed? You'll be running again tomorrow anyway."

He groans, practically rolling onto the ground beneath us. I expect him to get up, but he doesn't move. Lying in the dirt, he continues to whine.

Fry-pan stands up, helping the boy to his feet. He turns and looks at me, winking once. "I'll put this shank to sleep. Don't worry your little head about it."

I roll my eyes. "I'm still not a doll."

New drinking game: drink every time I say that. Trust me, you'll be shucked in the next five minutes.

Frypan shrugs, moving away.

I step forward, moving about. It's not that late, but people have been weird with me since it came out that I've been with Minho. It's kind of messed with my head, since I worry that the people who were my friends only wanted to get in my pants. It sort of feels like everyone is disappearing.

"You good Dee?" Frankie asks, walking closer to me. Joe is following quickly in tow. I love those kitchen rats.

I shrug, letting them sit down next to me. "Why?"

"Dave said you were sick as a klunk," Frankie shrugs.

Joe remains silent and stoic. He actually maintains eye-contact with me, instead of sending me a glance, and heading on his way. He may seem indifferent, but really he is a big softie. Even the worst of Frankie's shenanigans can't make him mad.

"Well, I'm fine." I insist, my eyes moving between the two.

"I hope so," Frankie manages. "We need you in the kitchen more than ever. Dave is Keeper of the Builders, so we won't see him as much."

That kind of sucks. I know he really didn't want that job. I'll miss seeing Dave everyday. He's one of the only friends I have who I know isn't just into me for my looks. Since, you know, Michelle.

"You didn't have to keep Ben and Minho secret," Frankie glances at Joe, who slowly nods in affirmation. "You can trust us."

"I know," I sigh, looking straight into Frankie's eyes. At a fundamental level, I know I'm not alone.

"Joe would've even beat the klunk out of Ben," Frankie offers.

I wish he hadn't brought up Ben. A few people now, have said they would've, but that doesn't matter. No one did, not even me. I don't need their protection, nor their reminders, nor their empty 'what ifs'.

Even though I know Frankie wants me to say thank you, but I can't bring myself to lie like that.

"Hey Dee," Minho steps closer, saving me. "Ready to go to sleep."

I nod, standing up.

"Baby Gladers!" Frankie shouts at me. "I want them."

I roll my eyes. "Why don't you and Joe go have them then?"

Michelle

I'm staring up at the mid-night sky, but I see nothing. The universe is empty, and so is my head. It's too late to be thinking, or feeling, or really anything. I'm just angry.

I'm on my feet, moving towards the Doors. For a second, I head towards the ones where I killed Ben, but instead, I swerve away. I don't realise it until I'm there, but I'm waiting where I last saw Gally. As if I expect him to climb across the Wall and come find me. As if he is waiting on the other side, trying to get back to me. Standing still, begging the night to be over quickly so he can run back into my arms. The truth of the matter is, he is gone, gone, gone.

"You didn't show up today."

I don't pay any attention to Winston. He can piss off a shucking die. I've got no time for him. Not just today, but any day. Not ever.

"Just go away," I manage, not even bothering to face him.

"Running back to the Builders?" He asks. "Is it Doug or Dave you are shacking?"

I turn around and shove him backwards. "Go away."

He stares at me for a second, before stiffening his back. Since he says nothing, I continue ignoring him. No part of me actually cares about anything he thinks or feels.

"No, I get you," he begins. "You can't feel no matter how hard you try, so you touch and you touch and you touch, until you're heart begins racing in your chest-"

"Slim it."

"-and your fingers begin to shake. None of those feelings are real though. They are lies you tell yourself so you-"

"I said shut it."

"-feel less like klunk about your pathetic existence."

My hand is around his neck, and I've slammed into the Wall. I don't remember turning around, or grabbing him, but I can see how he tries to remain calm. His breathing is jagged, but his lips remaining in a straight line. His lungs betray him. His need to live gives him away.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," I tell him, letting him go.

"Why did you kiss me then?" He demands, as if its his business to demand. As if Winston has any say in any matter. As if any of this has to do with him.

"Because I could pretend you were Gally," I shrug, shoving him off. "But you aren't."

Ella

It is later than late, but I am still awake. I can't sleep anymore, since I can nolonger dream of her.


	29. I could be here

Ella 28

It's not me now, since they shucked up and fixed me. The sky actually is grey. There is no sun. It's melted back against the backdrop that surrounds us. Everything is shadowed over, although there can be no shadows if there is no sun.

The solution: there never was a sun.

After all, you can't take something away that was never there. Maybe she was an illusion before this too. Maybe the thing they shifted in my head helped me remember.

I roll out of bed. Rolling on to the ground. Rolling away. I'm tired. Really, I don't want to do this. What's the point anyway? I already knew what was going to happen, and then they messed with my head I forgot the whole thing. Maybe we can just have a conversation, you and I.

So, there was this thing that I've already forgotten.

The solution: synthesize my memory.

The solution: find out why this happened.

The solution: find a solution.

The solution:

The solution:

The solution:

"Hey El," somebody, and by somebody I mean somebody who I don't remember but recognize, pops in my room. "You need to come downstairs."

I saw the sky. I saw the doom, and fate, and all that stuff stirred together in a cauldron and then spilt out above us. Painted the sky is different strokes, all of which are the same colour. All of which are uniform. As if they managed to take the creativity and the life out of everything and replace it with something rigid, firm, and mechanical. For sure the sun isn't gone. We are underground, I bet you. Maybe that's why everyone is gloomy all the time. Lack of Vitamin D.

The solution: eat more fish.

We have no fish.

"I saw the sky," I tell him. "It showed me all that matters."

He stiffens, leaning away. Zart's been distant. More than before. Before, we were friends.

Once he braided me a flower crown of daisies. Beautiful and white and yellow, but not hers. Not ours. Not a universe I understood.

Once we gardened together. The dirt was too cold, too sterile to be real. It matched my fingers.

Once he loved his tomato plants. Now, they rot in the ground.

Once I didn't repeat myself.

Once I remembered.

Once.

"Okay," he manages, unsure where to continue.

"What did you do Zart?" He stiffens when I ask him. Stiffens, and I expect him to answer. Stiffens, freezes, burns, lies. Zart has been lying to me. I've been sleeping for weeks and weeks and months and years, and now he knows and he didn't tell me.

If he is keeping a secret, he has caused my demise. He has flattened my bones to the ground before the impending sky could flatten me.

Zart shifts awkwardly. I step up closer and closer to him. "What did you do?"

He takes a second, exhales, and looks me in the eyes. "Clint thought he could help you by shifting the chip. He thought your body would have less seizures, and be in less pain, if he just moved it."

"He made me forget," I say, as if he cares. "He took a choice away from me.

Zart stands by his decision. He betrayed me. He was in on it. He helped them ruin my life. Destroyed, in one fell swoop, all that I had gathered here.

"He made you stop hallucinating too, El," Zart continues. "You are too sick to make decisions for yourself. Now, your body is better."

I don't care about the physicality of being. Never has that mattered. It is only my brain, which exists protected within me, that actually is of importance. I'd rather die than forget. I'd rather lose everything I have ever had, than forget I had anything. Zart helped steal it from me. He thought he knew what was best for me.

"How could you do this?" I demand. Now, I have forgotten. "How could you betray me?"

He crosses his arms, shaking his head. In a low voice, he whispers back to me, "you needed help Ella. One of those seizures, you were going to die. Your memories don't matter more than your life."

I am my memories. They are more important than me, or than anyone else. I need to know what happened. I need to see the truth. For some reason, things aren't right, and if I could remember more than glimpse, everything would be fine.

Solution: get stung by a griever.

That's when I leave the room. I walk past Zart, farther forward until I am in the Glade. Chuck stands still, staring forward. Maybe he notices me. Maybe he doesn't. There is nowhere to escape. There is nowhere to walk and hide and scream and fight. There are many places here I haven't been, and will never be, but there aren't places I can hide from Zart.

I walk to the Gardens. That's where Zart wants me, right? In his perfect world, where no one is unhappy and no one gets hurt, he wants me here, gardening alongside him. Next to his tomatoes.

Beside the tomatoes, there are violets growing. I remember having a seizure. I remember thinking about her, but who she is seems barely tangible anymore. I remember him. Not seeing him, but thinking I'm seeing him. Still today, I can feel his presence, licking my shoulder.

I miss her so much. Not just her, but the idea of her. I miss being able to remember her.

"Hey Curly," Dawn crouches down next to me in the dirt. Her eyelashes flick up. She buries her hands in the earth, taking it up in her hands before dropping it. As if to remind me that this world is tangible too. This world feels and thinks and breathes.

There is earth here, and I don't know if I've tasted its rust before. There is a sky, and though it is pretend and without a sun, the sky is freeing. Here, there is Dawn, able to smile at me.

"I haven't seen you out here in a while," she remarks, trying to remain calm and casual. I don't think I am the one upsetting her. I think the lack of a dawn has ruined her day.

"I'm cleared now," I tell her, though I don't tell her why.

She smiles as if this is good news. I don't know if I can even pretend it is.


	30. I could be softer

Leo 29

The sky is grey and threatening to rain. It doesn't rain here though. It is always sunny. There is no sun now. I glance out the window, checking to see if perhaps, hours late, the box came up. It hasn't. I doubt it will, even though it is due today. There are no supplies.

I go back to checking the cupboards. We are running low on a few pain medications, but otherwise nothing. Even adrenaline is fully stocked up, not that we need it. In a few days, we are going to have to start rationalizing bandages, according to Clint. We are going to stop construction on the new bathroom, since it causes to much risk for accident and uses too much wood. We are going to stop bonfires.

Worst, food. Clint wouldn't tell me, but I don't think it'll last us through the month. We're lucky if it lasts two weeks. The animals won't have any food, so we will be forced to eat them quickly, and there is no sun for the plants. The Garden will die.

And we will starve to death.

I run my hands along the shelves of the medical supply cabinet, checking one last time. Praying I miscounted. Hoping that there is more than we have.

I can feel the panic coming on. It's getting to the point where I would take something to physically knock myself out, but I can't, since supplies are low. If I panic, everyone else will start to worry, and then there will be catastrophe. There's going to have to be a Gathering tonight, I reckon. We're going to have to send out more boys to solve that Maze, but I don't know if we even have enough watches to do that. We won't have time to train them, and barely a second to feed them.

The bed creaks behind me. I spin on my heels.

The girl is sitting up and writing on her arm with the pen we use on her chart. It's blurry so I can't read the deep ink stain. She drops her arm and stares at me. As if I wasn't supposed to be here. Maybe I'm not, but she isn't either. We're both girls in here alone.

Of course she wakes up when I am trying to steady my breathing and can feel my knees shaking beneath me. Just my luck.

How the shuck am I supposed to start a conversation with a girl I've never met before? "Hey, you're Teresa, right?"

She skitters back, until she is pressed up against the wall behind her.

I shake my head. "I'm not going to hurt you. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a headache?"

This is a hard decision, because I want her to feel welcome, but I know that if she tells me she is in pain, I'm not going to give her anything. It's for the good of the group, which unfortunately trumps all of our needs.

"We washed your clothing, but the blood wouldn't come out," I tell her, as she examines her new clothes. "We got you some new stuff. Don't worry, you weren't completely naked."

I move towards the bed, and she jumps out of it. She doesn't jump any closer to me. I can't tell if her exit plan is the window or if she is going to tackle me. She is close enough that I can read the words on her wrist.

WICKED is Good.

I don't quite know what she is talking about, but I recognize the word. WICKED. I've seen it on some of the medical supplies before, but never thought much of it. The boys call them the Creators. I wonder what they truly are. Maybe if I asked Ella, she would know.

Teresa still stares at me with her wide blue eyes, choosing not to make a single sound. Her long dark hair wraps around her, encompassing her as if she is swimming in the strands.

In a flash, she moves on me, grabbing me and shoving me to the ground. I slip on the floor, trying to maintain balance on my one foot. She moves over, shoving me again. This time it is harsh. My torso crashes into the wooden wall behind me, shaking it. I try to push myself up off the wall, but she swings a leg out. It hooks my ankle, and I go crashing to the ground.

She runs out the room, leaving the door ajar behind her. Swinging.

Klunk.

I get up, my body aching but my muscles ready to move. My leg hurts, and I limp slightly as I move to catch her.

I can't chase her with a limp. I'll just hurt myself, and we are low on supplies.

At least I make it into the hall, holding on to the railing. I don't know where she is going. She has completely taken off, and is already out of the Homestead.

"Jeff!" I screech out the sound, hoping he will come and get me. I can't se him. "I need help!"

Clint comes running around the corner, and from inside the closet next to me, Chuck stumbles out. He looks at me, then at Clint, then back at me.

"Why are you screaming?" The two of them shout at the same time.

"Someone needs to go tell Newt and Alby that Teresa is awake," I tell them. "She is running."

"You're bleeding." Clint's eyes widen with panic. He looks around, searching the upper level for something. "Where's Jeff?"

"She kicked me," I can hear him groaning.

The three of us move over to the stairs, peering down into the foyer. Jeff lies on the ground, holding his crotch tightly. His dark face is contorted in pain.

"She shoved me over," I tell him. "Must've frightened her."

"I'll go get bandages," Clint remarks, looking back at me. "Neither of you are going anywhere. Chuck, you go tell Newt and Alby. Let them deal with her."

Chuck nods, listening with care, and Jeff manages to peel himself off the ground, though he groans. I test my ankle out on the ground once more. It isn't twisted, but it stings. I must've spun on to the ground. If I put too much pressure on it, it will get swollen. I really, really can't have that happen. It can't be that awful.

I move down the stairs, grunting as I put pressure on my ankle. Once I'm in the foyer, I knee down next to Jeff. It takes a minute for the pain to subside, and for me to be able to help him stand up. He leans down, looking at my pants. They are ripped at the knee, with a bit of blood trickling out. There is no use giving me a bandage for it though.

"You alright?" He asks.

I nod. "Go call off Clint. I'm fine. You guys need to do inventory."

Jeff shakes his head. He moves away. "I'm getting ice from the kitchen for your knee. Don't move."

He dashes out the front door, moving farther and farther away. Boys stare at him as he shoves through them, but Jeff provides no response.

From here, I can hear Chuck shouting to the whole Glade. "She's awake! She's awake!"

I move onto the porch, and step on the stairs outside with care. Gladers are beginning to hear Chuck. They gather in the center of the fields. Work is stopping, although it was supposed to stop soon anyway. After a few seconds, Newt is poking his head out of the Map-room and running over to me.

I shake my head back and forth, moving out of the foyer and into the dim light of the Glade. There is no sun. He can't come up here. She isn't here.

He walks up to me, limping up the stairs and moving after me. "Aren't you watching her?"

"Didn't Chuck tell you?" He moves past me, into the Homestead, but waits in the middle for me.

"What happened?"

"She attacked me and ran out," I tell him.

Newt groans in frustration. "She's the bloody worst. I take it you are alright?"

"My ankle is swelling, but I bet if I rest it I'm sure I'll live."

He nods, accepting the silence, though it may be awkward. I'm not sure what to tell him. Nor am I sure what I'm expecting him to say. We haven't really spoken since I ditched him a few nights ago.

"She's not here then?" His speech is clunky and awkward, and he steps away from me. There is no time to worry about the tense air between us. Who knows where Teresa could be or what she is doing? From what I've seen of her, she could be just as much trouble as Michelle.

"She's probably hiding." I remark.

"Let's go look."

We walk out the front door, back onto the porch. He hears me grunting, and so he leans into me. It's nice that even though he knows I like him, he's willing to help me and not make it weird. I bet he gets my struggle since he has trouble walking too. Together, we both limp towards the Deadheads.

Jeff rushes up next to us. He sees me and shakes his head. "Get back into the Homestead."

"We need to find her," I correct.

"If she just sees boys, she might be more hostile," Newt argues, siding with me. When I turn to look at him, he looks away, and his cheeks redden.

"She attacked Leo," Jeff argues. He bends over at this and ties a cold cloth around my ankle. I assume it is filled with ice. I wince, but he pulls it tighter against me.

"If she knows Leo wants to help her, she might be docile," Newt says.

"I'm going." I tell Jeff, cutting off the rest of Newt's argument. "I've been helping to take care of her for weeks. She'll trust me. Besides, I'm friends with Michelle. Worst comes to worse, we call her in for back up."

Jeff stands back up, crossing his arms. "I don't like this."

Newt shrugs, as if it's what he expects. I don't need Jeff's approval, and he knows he has no control over me. Eventually Jeff sighs. "I'll come with you then."

I am about to argue with him before Alby show up, panting. Behind him he has Billy, and another Bagger. Thankfully it's not Jackson.

"Where is she?" Alby move up. Of course, everyone is flooding around. "We checked the barn, the Slammer, the fields. No one has seen her."

"Try the Deadheads then?" Newt asks.

Alby nods, as he jogs off. For a second, I think Newt is going to follow him. Instead, he turns to stare at me and study my face, before smiling. "I'll greet her before Alby. Jeff can help you get there."

He runs away, moving faster than Alby into the forest.

It should be me who gets there first, but I really shouldn't run. Realistically, anything is better than Alby since he'll just want to arrest her or something.

Jeff doesn't help me. Like the others, he begins to chase after Teresa. I find myself walking behind them. They've all disappeared into the trees before I am halfway there.

This sucks. My ankle is killing me. If Teresa shucked it up, I'll be so pissed. Really, I'm too busy to have another serious injury. I've finally completely recovered from that bleach attack anyway. I try not to blame Gally for that though. Not that it matters anyway.

"Who the shuck are you?" I can hear Alby's voice echoing off the trees. His anger is rising. I follow him forward, until I notice who he is shouting at. It isn't Teresa, who stands stiffly. It is the boy beside her. Thomas.

"Alby, seriously-"

"She went and straight found you when she woke up!" Alby nearly spits as he speaks, the words fly out of his mouth so quickly. "You think that's a shuck coincidence?"

He continues shouting, while Thomas shakes his head. Newt glances at me, silently. Someone is going to need to stop Alby. He's jacked. It's not just the Griever sting either, although that hasn't helped. He's been slipping lately.

"I told you, neither of us know klunk," Thomas argues.

Alby lets his attention fall off Thomas. Instead, he turns to Teresa. "What the shuck did you do?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. As if Alby isn't worth her time of day, or as if he doesn't matter. Why does she act as if we are below her? I've done nothing to her.

Alby shakes a bit, and for a second, I can see how frightened he is. All this time, he has wanted nothing but to protect us. Simply, he doesn't know how. None of us do anyway, but he can't handle this unknowing. This looming sky and this strange girl, who has eyes like the sea and hair that could swallow me whole, an abyss that accepts me.

"Tell me," he continues, staring Thomas down. "There's no sun, and now this!"

I'm not sure what he is talking about. Newt looks down at his watch, and his breathing hitches in his throat. What time is it?

I look around. There was no earth-shaking, heavy sound. I've grown accustom to the pounding, though when I first heard it, it terrified me. It is late. We've already served dinner. If Thomas is back from running, it means the Doors should be closing. They aren't. They haven't.

We've got no supplies, no sun, and now, no Doors. We've got nothing.

I try to keep myself balanced but my knees are swaying. Newt moves to find me. Maybe everyone is right. Something nasty is going on, and I have been too busy to notice. The world is crumbling around us.

"The Ending is coming," Teresa tells him. "I didn't mean to do it."

"What happened Newt?" Thomas's voice rings out, suddenly surprised. "What's Alby talking about?"

Newt stiffens, leaning into me. Maybe he needed me to help him up more than I needed him.

"What shucking time is it Thomas?" Alby shouts, refusing to calm down. "Or were you too busy making eyes at her to notice?"

Thomas stiffens, looking down at his watch.

"It's the Walls, Tommy," Newt looks up at me, past Alby and past everyone else. "The Walls aren't closing."

Thomas's eyes shoot back to Teresa. Their dark hair and blue eyes make the pair almost indistinguishable. Though they are definitely not siblings, they seem to blend together into one mess. One that is destroying us all.

Everything else happens in a blur. They arrest Teresa, and though I've protested for girls before.,I don't now. This is it. Now, everything will change. We're all going to die tonight. Shuck the food, and all the other klunk.

The Grievers will get us. They will rip us apart in their claws.

"Are we going to be alright?" Thomas asks.

Newt doesn't answer. Either he doesn't know, or he doesn't want to break the boy. Either way, he clings onto my side, holding on for dear life. His arms slide around me, holding me in place. It is warm here, and soft. Even if for a moment, I can imagine it is Newt and I before the chaos. Before Thomas and before Ben. Here, we could be laughing on the floor of the Homestead, a bit shucked, early in the morning. Here, we could be laughing by a bonfire, watching Minho's steps slur together. Here, we could be together.

"We'll manage," I muster out the words to Thomas, even though I don't think we will ever be alright again.

He nods.

I am surprised that I let go of Newt first. We've got to get moving.


	31. I could be begging

Dawn 30

Through the chaos, through Leo and Newt barking orders, through boys running around, grabbing as many supplies as they can, I look for Minho.

I'm still feeling sick so I wasn't allowed in the Kitchen. Fry doesn't want me touching any of the food. He just wants me in the Homestead. I can't be though, not while all my friends are doing their jobs as Keepers.

Dave, Fry, Leo, Minho, Newt, and the others are out here, making sure everyone is safe. I've done my part. Now I don't know what to do except follow through the crowd and try to find Minho in this panic of people.

Is a group of people called a panic? It should be.

Minho moves over to me, so I guess all his Runners must be inside. He grabs me by the wrist, pulling me through the open door. We move into the Homestead, struggling to pass through the bodies streaming in and out and he puts me down on the ground.

"Stay put," he pleads, looking at me.

I cross my arms, straightening my back so that I'm closer to him in height. I try to face him. "I'm not a child. I can help."

"Help by staying out of this," he tells me, his lips straight and still. He closes his eyes, breathing in and out once. Immediately, his eyes soften. "I can't be worrying about you. Not right now. Please Dawn."

"Then don't worry," I argue, but he won't budge.

"Let's not worry about anything then. Let's just let the Grievers waltz in here. Maybe we can all play a friendly game of tag." His voice is drenched in sarcasm.

I roll my eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

"Well, I am what I eat, and you're definitely ridiculous." He can't help but smirk.

Evwn though I want to be angry, I can't. "Fine."

He smiles, leaving to keep doing whatever it is everyone else is doing.

I can't just stand around and do nothing. Winding my way out of his room, I watch as the Builders attempt to board up the windows. There aren't enough planks to cover them all, and I doubt there are even enough nails. None of the supplies came up, so we are probably screwed.

Leo stands off in the corner, watching them work. From here I can see her biting the inside of her cheek anxiously. Occasionally, she glances out of the corner of her eye, around the room. I wonder what she is thinking. Eventually, she spots me. Her feet practically glide across the floor over to me.

"Where's Michelle?" She demands, sending me a glance. "We can't find her anywhere."

"Try the Bloodhouses?" I ask.

She nods. "And the Deadheads. And everywhere else she could be."

"I'll find her," I tell her. I've got nothing better to do.

"Wait," she grabs my arm, moving in closer. She takes the watch off her wrist, wrapping it around mine. "Newt gave this to me a few minutes ago, so don't lose it or break it. Be back here in fifteen minutes."

I nod, straightening the plastic on my wrist. Newt really loves her, and it's a shame she doesn't love him back. The watch tricks on my wrist. I don't know what takes over me, but I pull her into a hug before running out the door.

There aren't many people outside. Everyone is taking shelter behind the safe walls of the Homestead. The sky is grey and weighing down on me. It's giving me the willies. I just need to get Michelle and go.

I scan the Walls, looking for the ginger. She isn't one to climb the Walls, and they have apparently checked for her everywhere. When I don't see her, I switch my attention to the Doors, staring out. Would she have run after Gally? Could she have?

I don't think so.

"Let me go," that's Thomas' voice.

What's he doing out here?

I round a corner, heading to the Slammer. His back is shoved against it, and Michelle is holding him by his collar. His cheeks are flushed, and I can hear a voice inside the Slammer I don't recognise. A female one.

"What's your problem?"

"He is," Michelle answers.

"If Alby thought he was a problem, he'd be in here with me."

I wince. Those are words you definitely don't want to say to Michelle after all that happened with Ben. And with her banishment. Generally speaking, she doesn't like Alby. He isn't known for locking up the right people.

Thomas squeals as Michelle pushes him further into the wall behind him.

"Michelle," she looks at me when I call her name.

Her eyes are steel and harsh until she rolls them. "Slim it, Dawn."

I sit down, crossing my legs on the ground. If I pretend she isn't a threat she'll get pissed and come tackle me. "I didn't say anything but your name."

Thomas looks at me, and then at Michelle. He seems to relax a little bit, his breath becoming slower. Maybe she isn't gripping him as tightly as I thought she was. Maybe she is trying to breathe too.

"I'm not like him," she begins. "This isn't the same."

"Looks the same to me," she's got to be talking about Ben. Maybe my being here has reminded her of the night she found me. I never thought it might have upset her too, what he's done. I guess I never gave her the vulnerability she gave me. Now, I can see how scared she really is.

"Gally is dead because of him," she says, but I know she doesn't believe it. Not that he isn't dead, because he definitely is, but that it is Thomas' fault. She lets him go, and he squirms back.

Michelle takes a firm steps closer to me, and I stand to greet her. She pushes past me. For a second, I consider following her, but I don't. If she can't do damage control, then I will.

"Don't tell them," I ask, moving closer to Thomas and the girl. I peer in the cell, noticing her. "You're awake?"

She nods, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah, I am."

I shake my head back and forth. That doesn't matter. I turn my attention back to Thomas, who is reasonable. "I'm seriously sorry about her. She had a thing with Gally, and she just doesn't know what to do."

He stares at me silently.

"Don't stay silent for her," I tell the two of them. "She doesn't really deserve your sympathy anyway. But for me Thomas. Please help her."

He nods carefully up and down, but Teresa doesn't say anything. She simply glares at me. I get the feeling I'm not going to like her.

"I promise I'll get that chick out if you do," I say, and I mean it.

He seems to trust me, so he nods. I can tell it isn't enough to please the stranger. I need to tell him why Michelle means so much to me.

"Can I talk to you, Thomas?" I ask.

He nods, pulling away from the Slammer. The girl doesn't seem happy about the separation, but I'm too overwhelmed too care.

We round a corner. It is just us.

"Michelle saved my life," I don't know why I'm telling him this. Maybe because he is pleasant, but more likely because he and I barely know eachother.

"When?" He asks.

"I mean, you did too," I offer, trying to stall until my lips figure out how to move. "You saved Minho's life. And mine, when Ben was there."

"You saved me from Ben." He steps away, the grey sky latching on to his skin. He remains a respectful distance form me.

I shake my head back and forth. The chaos is quieting down. I need it to. I need the thirty second break.

"Ben, had attacked me a few weeks ago," I tell him. "He, he hurt me."

My hands are shaking. Thomas steps in closer to me. Out of instinct, or maybe out of kindness, he grabs them.

"Ben threatened to get Minho banished if I said anything." I can't make eye contact with Thomas. He holds my hands still as my voice quavers. "So, I was silent. Then he got shucked and attack Michelle, and she stopped him. You stopped him too. You got him banished when he attacked you."

"I didn't want anyone to get hurt," Thomas shakes his head. "I didn't know he did that."

I swallow, lifting my eyes to meet him. His are soft, and waiting for me.

"That's why I need you to keep Michelle safe," I tell him. "She's hard, and she is hurting, but she is my friend. I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

He hugs me, and I pull myself in against him. It feels good to say it out loud. It feels good for people to know what he has done.

I wipe my watering eyes, pulling away from him. "You need to get inside, Thomas. It's getting bloody late."

"Come in with me," he nods, pulling back.

I shake my head back and forth. "Someone needs to get Michelle."

He doesn't leave me at first, so I playfully shove him.

"Seriously, Thomas." I tell him. "I'm fine."

He nods, backing away. "I believe you. If you aren't though, let me know."

He doesn't seem sure he wants to walk away, but when I shoo him off he does. It takes a few seconds for me to decide that I need to leave this behind me as well.

Eventually, I turn around and walk away.

Michelle is standing in the center of the Glade, staring at who knows what. Of course she couldn't just go back. Of course now I've got to convince her not to die out here tonight. Unfortunately, life never works the way I want it to.

Her hair is strewn about, her face scrunched up tightly. She frowns at me.

"Would you just get in there?" I shout, following her. "It would make my life a lot easier."

"Why do you give a shuck?" She crosses her arms.

I roll my eyes. Why is everything about her? "Because Leo will shucking die if you die, and she'll kill me too."

Michelle stands her ground. I move up to her, and grab her. She knocks my hand away, and I stand still, frustrated. "You know, not everything is about you?" I demand.

"Well, not everything is about you either," she argues.

I don't make everything about me. Everything I do, everyday is to help them all out. I helped Ella, and I help Leo, and now it's Michelle's turn. She doesn't even know how much I've put up with Dave trying to get in her shucking pants.

"So, lets make this about Leo and go inside before she has a hernia," I offer.

Michelle balls her fists, and doesn't move. I roll my eyes.

"I've let Dave talk to me and complain for weeks about how he is still in love with you and can't be with you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I got thrown in the Slammer to protect you and Minho," she argues, scrunching her nose up. "And I killed Ben for you."

What is she talking about? "He was banished. You didn't banish him."

"I shove him into the Griever that stung him," she shouts. "So yeah, that was my doing. You're welcome."

I don't know what to say to that. "You killed him for you, and not me."

"That's not true," she argues.

"Yes it is," I counter, moving closer to her. She stands her ground, staring me down, or I guess up since she is so short. "You were just as mad at him as me. You wanted him dead just as much. So, I guess we are even then, and if you get inside I will owe you. Is that what you want?"

"I want Gally not to be dead!" She shouts back.

Klink.

"There's no shucking use joining him, and so help me I will get Clint out here to sedate you if you don't head in the Homestead yourself."

She stares at me for a few seconds. The wind blows in her red hair, causing it to fly directly in her face. Past her freckles, and her angry eyes, I can tell she is thinking.

"Well, fine," she shouts, shoving past me. "But not for you."

"Yeah sure," I chime in.

"It's just because I don't want to die."

I roll my eyes. "Well who shuck wants to die?"


	32. I could be blind

Michelle 31

It has been quiet all night but I can't sleep anyway. When I was talking to Thomas, a group of Builders had taken over my room upstairs. I wasn't welcome there, so I here I lie, struggling to sleep on the ground. It's been hours, but the night plagues me. Unlike the others around me, who try to keep still as fear prickles their skin, I am kept awake by the loud thump of my blood pumping, and the angry huff to my chest.

Gally is still gone. There will be no vengeance.

"Can we talk?" Dave has moved next to me, and his voice is but a quiet whisper.

There is nothing to talk about. I don't know what he wants to say to me. He expects an apology, that's for sure, but I don't know what to give him or how to say one. I've already given one apology in my life; isn't that enough?

"I'm sorry," he tells me. My eyes dart to him, lingering on his skin. His skin under his eyes is darkened by the weight of our sins.

It's dark, but I can see him staring at me.

"About Gally," he continues on, a sad look on his face. "It must really suck that he is gone. I can't imagine what that feels like."

He doesn't touch me. He isn't trying to sleep with me, for once. Not that the last time was bad. It was fine. Here though, as a friend, he is telling me he is sorry I lost Gally. No one else has done that. No one else has said anything. Is this because I voted for him for Keeper? That wasn't because I like him or anything, but because he is better than Adam.

It doesn't seem like he cares about that. Maybe, after all this, he does just want me anyway he can have me. I miss him too, but I can't admit that. I want in my life.

But I don't know what to say.

There is whirring outside. A sort of mechanical purring. Boys all around me are turning, crouching, but Newt is up before all of us. He shakes his hands about madly, a finger on his lips. I stand up regardless of his gesture, leaning against the wall behind me.

Outside, the Griever waits, slicing the silence with sharp baldes. It's almost churning and grinding. I can hear what it wants to do to our bodies. The pain it wants to put us in. I can hear its hunger. I sense it, and it is outside the window, waiting for us.

The candles flicker around the room. I can hear the gulping of the boys around me, can smell the sweat wafting over towards me. It's as if we have one collective idea. We're trying to be quiet and still and it is not working.

The candles still and no one breathes.

The backdoor swings open. I can hear David shouting, and Newt shushing everyone at the sound. I thought it would come from the window. There must be two. One back there and one waiting outside. I can't fight off two. I doubt I could even outrun one. Were going to die, plan and simple. All of us at once.

Gally comes in the room. Bursting through, boys flying away from him. It's him, and not a Griever.

He's here. He's alive.

I shift into the wall, as if I'm trying to camouflage. He isn't going to hurt me. After all, he is infinitely better than a Griever. The noise everyone is making isn't though. I don't know why I'm not relieved to see him.

Gally's eyes are wide and searching. His hands are red, and scratched to bits, as are he clothes. His skin is grey and hangs and stretches off him. I don't recognise him. I don't know him. This isn't the boy who stood with me in the Deadheads. This isn't a boy. I don't know what it is. I don't know why it's here. I didn't want this corpse to come back. I wanted Gally.

Maybe the Gally in my head never existed.

Dave moves in front of me. He stands up, to block Gally from me. I can't tell if I'm thankful or not. I don't want to look, but I want to see him. I want him to be the boy he was supposed to be.

"They'll get you," he argues with the air, spitting through his teeth. "One by one by one until you're all gone!"

He's talking nonsense, I can't look. I can't see or breathe. I peer around from behind Dave, forcing my eyes forward. Gally is moving to the center of the room. Dave blocks me from a new angle, as he approaches Thomas and Newt. Everyone is silent.

"You," Gally's voice is ghostly and hollow, and I hear feet scuffling. Is he going to hit Dave? Has he seen me?

I shove past Dave, turning around to face Gally. Thomas's body hits the ground, collapsed in on itself as he cradles his ear. Newt shoves Gally back. The stranger falls against a desk, and smashes a lamp, and he only seems to get angrier.

That's all that he is now. A stranger in a fight with boys who I don't like, but are here to protect us when he couldn't. Gally has been selfish, but I can see him hurting before me. Who let this happen?

Dave grabs me by the waist as I lunge to move towards Gally. I step on Dave's foot, but he continues to hold me in place. Gally needs help. We need to knock him out and wait until he comes to his senses. He might've even been stung again and is bugging from the Changing.

Gally stands, slowly. His hands shake, but he still doesn't see me.

"You don't get it," he pauses, his words hollow. They sound like wind blowing through the candles. "They are going to kill you. The Maze will pick you off, one every night until you're all dead. It's the stupid Variables. You're all dead."

"Slim it Gally," Newt steps closer to him. "A Grievers waiting for us right outside that window."

From staring around, to staring at Newt, Gally continues. His eyes are locked. "You don't get it. You're all dead, Newt. You're so stupid. There going to kill us all."

Gally is leaping forward, running to the window. He dives past me, I doubt he even recognizes me. The window is boarded up, but that doesn't stop him. His hands dig into the wood. He pulls one board free. There are only two left.

"Gally, Gally stop," I reach forward to grab him.

He knocks me backwards, and I hit my head on the ground. He rips off the second board, and hits Newt in the head with it. Our leader's blood sprays and splatters across my face. He falls to the ground. His head is next to me, and his eyes dark and heavy. His face doesn't twitch.

Newt's dead.

I'm up on my feet, and I shove Gally's head against the wall, before spinning him around to face me. Gally claws at me with his nails, turning me around and pinning me against the surface I had just used to control him. For a second, I think he recognises me. His face breaks, and his eyes flicker. I kick him off with my leg, and he stumbles backwards.

I couldn't wait to see if he was fine, because I doubt he is. It's rare that people are these days.

"Stop," I say it simply, but he doesn't seem to care.

Dave steps in to grab Gally. Gally easily knocks him to the ground, charging back at me.

Gally swings me to the side and bashes my head off the window frame. I feel dizzy but send him a punch to the face regardless. He twitches backwards. Blood drools out his mouth on to the floor. On to Newt. Gally grabs hold of me, lifting me up to me him in height.

My feet dangle in the air. I grab his face, shoving my fingers into his eyes and he drops me. He backs away, before charging at me and grabbing me. I shove him off, defending the window.

I can hear the Grievers clicking away outside. Everyone is frozen around me. Why don't the stop Gally? If he breaks out, the Grievers will be able to grab us too.

Gally shoves me aside, ripping back the final board. I grab at his sleeve but he shoves me off, hitting me to the side of my face with the wooden black. My head snaps backwards, my weight shifting to the left, and I roll onto the ground.

Everyone is screaming, and shouting.

I am on my feet, but I can't see anything.

It's blurry. My arm burns.

I'm struggling to move forward, but my ears are ringing and its dark.

Gally is screaming, and Thomas is too, but I can't see. It's both blurry, and dark. My face is wet. I taste blood. Is it from my mouth or somewhere else?

Dave is holding me to my feet, I look up at him, through the vision I can barely manage, and slur. "Let me go."

He doesn't. He holds onto me with full force.

The sounds are blurred, but I can hear Dawn screaming. She's screaming, and screaming, and screaming, but I can't reach out to her.

Soon, I can here Leo screaming too. I can hear everyone shouting, but I can't pick out their voices specifically. I can feel their pain.

I can't see anything. I try to stay awake, but I can't. Dave is shaking me. I can feel myself moving, or falling, or something is wrong.

Where's Gally?

I groan, and whine. My head is pounding, and I can still barely see. Everything is fuzzy. It comes in and out in waves of both confusion and sound. There is panic, and screech, and apparently, still no sun.

Someone needs to have helped him. Please. Gally can't be dead. I still haven't told him I like him. He doesn't know that I care, and that I need him.


	33. I could be honest

Ella 32

For a second, I feel as if the world has returned to a grey scale. The sky is steel but glows above us. The air is filled with cinders and ashes that land in my hair and on my skin. It is raining, but it is also snowing. All that falls burns. It lands on the ground, cushioning the soil. It fills the cold and bitter wind and enters my lungs.

Smoke leaves and burns the air. It is a scalding cup of coffee that burns my tongue and wakes me up. It is heavy, compressing me firmly against the Earth, a flower folded between the pages of a novel to be preserved on paper.

The smoke is much darker than he was, a sort of charcoal. I remember that about the smoke man. He was white, and cloudy, and thin. This is thick and it strangles my lungs. I stand so close all the same, letting it take me in. It's warm too, and almost filling instead of constricting.

They burnt down the Map room. I don't know who, but they is enough. Our world crisped and crumbled below us. All of it died beneath our feet. There was a way for us to escape, but now there is nothing. Our hopes reduced to small cinders, whispers of memories, whisked away on the wind.

I glance down at my hands. They are the same brown I remember. They are still real, and they still feel. Every inch of skin is mine, and it is colour. It is not grey, nor white, but black through and through. I know we can still see now.

Even though the fire has destroyed much, the warmth is delightful.

There are Gladers, moving around me, but I barely see them. Others rushing forwards, helping Alby off the ground. His head is bleeding, but it is a red herring.

I step away, moving further from them all. Moving back into the Homestead.

I spot the girl. She moves with the boy I do not like down the stairs, following deep after them.

Teresa and Thomas

It hurts to think their names. It scratches at the surface of a memory that is halfway between here and forgotten. A bug bite that bleeds.

They open a door I do not recognise and enter it. I follow them. The sole of my shoe slips on the ground, wet and slippery. I look down.

There is blood pooling on the floor from a fight I did not witness. It sinks into the fabric around me. Into white sheets, and yellow sheets, and violet sheets, and everything. It takes on its own life, spreading rapidly. This is what violence does. This is what confusion and chaos causes. I don't know why we are here, but I will find out. I will find out the truth.

The only salvation to suffering is knowledge. It is the only hope our future generations can have.

I take a step forward. As I move forward, my shoes trail blood behind me.

I open the door they entered.

Newt and Minho are in the room, as well as Thomas and Teresa.

"Hey El," Minho jumped in front of the box he was opening, but from here I could see what they are.

The maps got out.

My eyelashes flutter across my face. I can see, the vision coming in and out of focus. Their jaws are ajar, their faces dirty. Have people always been able to see me the way I see them in this moment? This vulnerable, this terrified? I step forward. "You have to let me help you."

"What?" Thomas jumps in. "What are you talking about?"

I don't know what to say. Teresa stares me down. I don't like her. I tried to attack her. I want her dead. She tore us apart, right? Isn't she the reason I'm here, Violet girl? Well, I think sort of. I don't remember what it was that I knew, but I think we are close. Or were, in position but not in character. A pawn for a pawn, a simple switcheroo.

Solution: do the switch now.

"I remember," I tell them.

This is when Thomas freezes. His heart seems to stop in his chest since his skin goes cold. He remembers when I attacked him, because of course he does. I needed to attack him though. Even if I forgot why.

"You, you attacked me when I first got here," he manages. "Is that why? You thought I was evil; is that what you remember?"

I'm still not convinced in your favour Thomas.

"You did take something from me," I look at him, then at Teresa. "Both of you. I've forgotten now, but you stole her away."

"Who?" Thomas continues.

It doesn't matter. Even if I explain it to him, he won't get it. There is a whole realm of possibilities above this grey ceiling. I can't even begin to explain to him where she went if it wasn't here.

Where did she go? Where did she go if not to the Glade? Where is she?

Solution: we are not the only experiment.

Solution: the four of us girls, were supposed to go over there.

Solution: the thing that malfunctioned with my head, was something I did.

Solution: I botched it.

Solution: we broke the rules. I busted their game.

Solution: we were a coalition, bent on destroying.

Solution: this is my fault.

Some how they are able to continue it though, which doesn't make any sense to me. How does it keep going and going and going when I was supposed to be some place else? Why didn't I send myself to her? Whatever I believed in, I believed in more than her. I just forget what it was. It seems impossible, doesn't it? To believe more than to love? To give up her soft hands and sweet smile for a harsher truth?

"It's not important," I tell them. "I need to help you get out of here. There is someone I need to get back to. Someone I need to see."

Someone I need to love.

Newt looks at me, glancing up then down at his hands. His cheeks turn red, before he looks down back at the box.

Minho looks back and forth amongst the group. As if waiting for an answer from them.

"I know about how we got here," I tell them, crossing my arms over my chest. "I remember. I know what the trial is. I know who designed it, and what they designed it for. I know why we lost our memories. Do you want my help or not?" My words are white in the air. They won't know, will they? They won't ask.

"Yes," Thomas is the first to answer.

He stands up on his feet, looking back and forth. "We're going to get paper and pens. You and Newt should stay her and watch the maps."

He leaves, along with Teresa and Minho. I only wanted to talk to the two of them. Not to Newt.

He looks me up and down, waiting for me to speak. When I don't he sighs.

"Leo told me she suspects Clint didn't something to your head," he manages. "Are you sure you remember before the Maze?"

I shake my head back and forth, leaning against the wall. It is hard, and musty, and real. I forget what reality is sometimes.

"I remember Teresa and Thomas," I tell him. "I remember I didn't like her, nor him, but I don't remember why. I remember the girls too, and that I don't like the people who put us here."

"What bloody shank does?" He asks, he knees groaning and cracking as he stands up.

"I loved a girl and I never told her," I tell him. I don't remember if I told her or not, but its what Newt needs to hear. His cheeks are still flushed. "I think she might have known, but I don't know for sure. I need that certainty. I need to have said those words."

Newt stares at me for a second, before sighing. "It's harder than you think."

"It could be harder," I tell him. "If I never see her again, that's harder."


	34. I could be luckier

Leo 33

I sit next to Newt, finishing drawing. It is me, him, Fry, Dawn and Ella all working away in here. And Teresa. She keeps glancing awkwardly up at Ella. I wonder how the youngest girl got roped into this group. She isn't particularly trustworthy, as far as I can tell. A bit off the rails.

"It's just PUSH again," Dawn drops the markers, looking over at Newt. "It just keeps repeating."

FLOAT. CATCH. BLEED. DEATH. STIFF. PUSH.

We've gone back more than halfway through the records. Done them all, over and over and over again.

"There's more to do," Teresa begins. "We could go back months and months. WICKED wouldn't just leave this nonsense. It has to mean something."

I've been hearing about WICKED more and more these last few days. Before now, I hadn't thought much about the Creators, or the crates they send us labelled with their insignia. I don't know enough about them to know what nonsense they would and wouldn't leave. All I know is that I've seen enough people die at their hands to expect nothing better of them.

Dawn gives her a look that I barely catch. Obviously, Teresa is a Greenie. She doesn't get how it works. I honestly don't know how she's handling it. Waking up in the elevator was hard enough but waking up when this came crashing down must be impossible.

"We can keep working tomorrow," I suggest, trying to ease the tension between the two. "That way we can take a break tonight. I need to check on Michelle anyway."

Teresa continues her sour look, and at this Dawn flinches away. Of course, more drama. Do I want to know what happened last night between Michelle, Dawn, and Teresa? Or do I want to forget it?

"We'll call it a day," Newt sighs. He drops his marker, shoving it forward. Leaning his head in his hands, he holds himself up.

Ella silently moves out of the room, brushing past him. I wait for Teresa to get up, but she doesn't. I wanted to talk to Newt, but I didn't know what to say. Nor even where to begin. At least now we have hope, but he seems more destroyed than ever.

Dawn grabs me and practically pulls me out of the room. "So, Michelle." It's a secret that she has been holding in her. Her breath rising and rising.

When the door is shut, and we walk up the crowded stairs, I whisper to her. "What did she do?"

"Tried to beat up Thomas in front of Teresa," she whispers back, eyeing the boys around us for lingering eyes.

I groan in frustration, before approaching Michelle's room. That would be why Teresa is more than a little pissed. I can't gage Thomas's reaction because he isn't here. It is getting late, and there are no signs of those Runners. I doubt they're coming back tonight. Not that there is any use to them being here.

"I fixed her mess," she tries to reassure me. "I convinced Minho to let Teresa out this morning. So I don't get why she is so angry."

That's hardly the point, but I drop it. Michelle can't just keep going around attacking people. Not only is it bad politics, but she could also get hurt. I don't know any people who honestly like her, including myself.

Or maybe I like her, I don't know. She's just relentlessly frustrating.

I don't have anything to say back. Here is where normally Dawn continues her talking. She could gossip to me all day and night for a year. Now, she is silent.

"Worried about Minho?" I open the door to Michelle's room and shut it behind Dawn.

Thankfully, Michelle is still asleep on the bed. She drifted off a few hours ago so I left, even though I'm supposed to be keeping her under observation. I didn't have any choice but leaving, they needed my help to double check the maps.

I move next to the bed, staring at her ears, her nose, and the pillow. She still has no more bleeding or anything, but I doubt her sight has returned. I don't know if it'll ever come back.

"I'm not worried," Dawn turns away from the window to face me. "He said he'd be back sometime tomorrow. And, could you please bandage Michelle's face? It looks like someone put her skin through a shucking blender."

"I can hear you," of course she wakes up. She rubs her eyes, opening them slowly. I watch her as she realises she still can't see. Maybe she was hoping this was all some elaborate dream, or prank we pulled on her.

At least it is only the right eye, and simply the right side of her face.

"No headache?" I ask, moving in closer to her. "Nausea?"

"You shucking give me a headache," she mutters.

I roll my eyes. "You're ears ringing? Any vomiting or confusion?"

She doesn't answer me, staring at me plainly, but what did I expect? She is Michelle.

"Still no sight." She eventually offers.

I sit down on the edge of her bed, staring her back with hopefully the same intensity she sends me in glares. Michelle's eyes are just as strong as her fists.

"Mind explaining to me why you attacked Thomas?" I demand.

She looks past me at Dawn, her eyes half open. She cocks her head to the side slightly, and sighs. "Really Dawn?"

"Teresa was being a shank about it, so I had to tell her." Dawn argues back. "I couldn't hide it."

"Not the point," I cut in, looking between the two of them. "Teresa was being a jerk because you attacked Thomas. Don't attack people."

Michelle rolls her eyes. At least she has motor control over them. It must be a problem with her nerves. Part of her brain could be swelling.

"You sure you feel fine?"

She nods, looking around. "I'm shucking great actually. Don't feel like I've been hit in the face with a shucking plank of wood at all."

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the paper shredder." Dawn chuckles. Michelle glares at her, and though I'm not happy Dawn is causing shit, she is right. Michelle looks awful.

I don't know how much longer I want to stick around for this, with Michelle getting more and more irritated. Besides, I need to talk to Teresa. She probably has some answers.

"Dawn, lets get out of here," I tell her. "Michelle should sleep."

She nods, moving towards the doorway.

I don't want her to continue to tag-along with me, so I come up with a lie. I whisper to her in a low voice once she's next to me. "Besides, I need to find Newt."

Newt is behind the door when I open it. Great, just great. The one time I don't want him here, he shows up. Dawn laughs out loud, patting me on the shoulder before squeezing down the halls.

"Come find me when it's lights out Lee," she calls over her shoulder. She winks. I can't stand her sometimes, even if she is making me smile.

Newt and I stare at each other in silence. I wasn't expecting my excuse to show up. Now this is awkward, because I didn't think he wanted to talk to me. We haven't really talked, the way we should, in a few days (which feels like a couple weeks with how busy life is).

We haven't talked like we used to before the kiss.

"I was waiting for you," he tells me, his cheeks red as he stares after Dawn. Obviously the insinuation makes him just as uncomfortable as it makes me. "I wanted to make sure Michelle is fine."

I nod, looking at my feet. Reaching behind me, I shut the door. There are only a couple bodies shuffling through the hallway, but there is still too much noise for us to talk privately. I guess the few people around us (mostly Sloppers), will have to know about her condition.

"Once the dead skin on her face falls off, she'll look better," I offer. "Still blind in the one eye though. I feel like that's around to stay."

He seems elsewhere, so when he moves his head up and down with agreement, I imagine he is affirming nothing. Just simple shaking his head so that I think he is listening.

"Can we talk?" Newt asks. "Privately."

"I'm not sure where you want to do that," I gesture, looking around. Every room is bound to be occupied. No space left un-shoved. There are forty some odd people stuffed in this house. Fewer, I guess, since the Runners are gone. I doubt there will be an empty room. The foyer was packed. There had to be twenty or so people in there.

After all, Minho has a whole room to himself, and all the Keepers sleep in two rooms, (in beds they kept). So, all the rest of the lot had to be jammed into the two Med rooms and the girls room. Needless to say, those extra seven beds didn't fit an extra thirty bodies.

"We can leave. We have ten minutes until the sun is down," he trails off as he understands the gravity of his words. One night like the last. If Gally is right, someone will die tonight. The Grievers will be back. "Or, is supposed to anyway."

I shake my head. "I need to talk to Teresa before it is lights out."

Newt grabs a hold of my hand. He doesn't flinch, or let go, or step backwards like he has done hundreds and thousands of times before. Newt is always standoffish, and awkward, and distant. I hadn't realised it had changed lately. Since I kissed him.

"I need to talk to you about that night," he tells me. "I need to talk to you."

I don't know what he could tell me that I don't already know. Right now, I'm so confused. He doesn't like me. He's into boys. Every twist and turn has showed me that.

I know what is happening.

He is worried I'm upset. He doesn't want me to die tonight, feeling unloved. So, he's acting all weird, and pretending he has feelings for me, when really, he doesn't. He thinks we are going to die soon and doesn't want me to feel alone.

"Tell me tomorrow morning," I demand.

He shakes his head back and forth. "Leo, you need to know now. In case we die tonight."

"I already know," I tell him. I really don't want to yell at him tonight, in front of all these people, for trying to make me feel loved. I do feel loved by him, as a friend.

"I need to say it out loud to you." He steps closer, and at this I step back. "In case I can't ever again."

I shake my head at him. "Then live until tomorrow morning and tell me once we figured out a way out of here."

Before he can protest, I slip my hand out of his grip and walk down the stairs. I need to talk to Teresa, but I feel sick. I feel like I've done something wrong. Because, we could all die tonight, and Newt really does just want me to be happy.

I can't do it though. Because, if he tells me I'll believe him. I know it too. Part of me, the entirety of me, wants him to love me. I know he doesn't though, and it's not fair to believe it. I can tell he has been different lately, but things have been more intense these past few days. I hug my friends too. I laugh with my friends too. Just because he knows I like him, doesn't mean we can't be the same.

I find Teresa sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Plopping down next to her, I hope none of these roaming boys will find their ways next to us as well. It seems I am encountering a problem at every turn.

"I heard about what Michelle did," I manage. "Sorry you got introduced to us that way. We aren't all like her."

Teresa turns to glance at me. She studies my face carefully. "Then, what exactly are you like?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Don't be too mad at her. Michelle watched Gally kill himself twice. She was there when he ran into the Maze the first time, and there the second time when he jumped out a window."

Teresa looks away, facing forward. "She still hit Thomas."

"I know," I agree. She did hit him. She hurt him. "She's a bit rough, but she's hurting. We all are, you included."

She doesn't answer. Staring forward, I see her examine her fingers with her nails. No matter how long she stares forward, they don't move or change, but I imagine she expects them too. I imagine she thinks the whole ground is going to slip out from beneath her and swallow us whole.

"I'm not asking you to give her a chance," I tell Teresa. "I'm not asking you to change your mind. I'm asking you to listen."

She nods, turning back towards me. "You think its easy for me, to listen and understand it all? I've been awake for a day."

Her tone makes me think that she and Michelle could be best of friends, if our situations were different.

A lot has happened in the time Teresa has been awake, so it feels like longer. It feels like she could've been up for weeks. On the first days I was here, I didn't understand the slang let alone the situation. She must be suffering. She must feel alone.

"Sleep with us tonight," I don't order her, I offer it. "Michelle won't be there, but Dawn and I are going to sleep in Minho's room. It's better than out here with the Gladers."

"They won't stop hitting on me." She rolls her eyes, turning back to face me. "Probably because the rest of you are taken, right? Except for Ella?"

I shake my head. "Not me. Michelle likes to screw around I guess, so the word taken doesn't apply to her either. It's only Dawn, but all the boys drool after her."

I guess they drool after Michelle too, if she is getting her share of action. Teresa is beautiful though, so I'm not surprised boys are climbing all over her. Not that its right, but I'm certainly not shocked.

"Lights out shanks!" Newt stands at the top of the stairs, practically running down. I let him slide past me so he can move into the foyer. "It's time to sleep, or at least shucking pretend to."

"He's the leader?" She asks.

"When Alby is out yeah, he is," she really must not know much. Jeff and Clint are watching Alby in the other med-room tonight. He can't even walk. Someone hit him hard when they burnt down the Map-room. He's been throwing up all day. Concussion for sure. "I should be watching Alby and Michelle, but I wanted to find you."

"I never got your name," she tells me.

Really?

"Leo," I offer, standing up. "We'd better get to sleep before Newt loses his mind."

Teresa tentatively stands and follows me into Dawn's room.


	35. I could be sleeping

Dawn 34

Teresa doesn't say much when she enters the room. She sees me, gives me some weird form of a half-hearted smile, and curls up under the window in the corner. From where I sit on the bed, I toss her a blanket. Why is she being so weird and distant? She nods, but still doesn't offer me a word.

She's a bit rude, I think, but I can't really say I blame her. They locked up Michelle too, and look how angry she still is. It can mess with your head, being trapped in those blood covered walls. Never mind that she has only been awake for 24 hours. Talk about knocking your socks off with information.

I have to hand it to her Teresa being calm. She seems smart too. Even if she is a bit of a shank.

Leo walks in too, only seconds later. She stands still, her brown eyes scanning the floor.

"How'd it go?" I pat the spot on the bed next to me.

She seems relieve to sit down with me. Did she think I'd let her sleep on the floor? She looks down, lowering her voice. "Sorry for bringing Teresa in. I didn't want to make her sleep outside."

"No problem," I whisper back, just as lightly. I had a feeling Leo would invite the stranger in anyway. If we get Michelle and her wood chipper face, and Ella, and we'd have a slumber party for the jacked in here. "What did Newt want to talk about?"

"The usual," she replies. Her ears tinge pink though, so I can tell she is lying. She gnaws at the inside of her cheek.

I wonder if she knows I notice her nervous habit. It would impossible not to, since its in my face practically everyday. I nod anyway and wish her goodnight.

I don't fall asleep. I couldn't if I tried. My eyes don't feel heavy, and I can feel blood coursing through my body. It's already dark out, the Doors haven't closed, and Minho is gone. I can't fall asleep without him here. I'm awake, I'm awake, I'm awake.

It's a few hours later that I hear the whirring. Even though she is near the window, Teresa remains as peacefully asleep as she was before. I've been awake though, so I pull the sheets up and look around. Leo was waiting at the doorway already, moving into the center of the room. She had gotten up an hour ago and has been roaming the halls since. I doubt she knows I've been awake.

If the creature comes for this room, it's going to come through the window, where Teresa is. I have some comfort knowing it will get her first. The thought makes my stomach twist, since, do I really wish death upon someone I barely know?

Leo doesn't open the door. Simply, she presses her ear up against it and listens.

Screaming erupts from above us.

That's where our official bedroom is. That's where I should be tonight.

There is banging, and I can feel the whole room shaking. I grab hold of Leo to keep myself from falling over.

"Adam!" Someone screams.

I know Adam. He's a Builder, and maybe four of them went to sleep in our room. Maybe all of them, maybe they are all dead.

"Adam!"

"Somebody help him! It's got him!"

I can't move my feet from where they are planted on the ground.

The house stops shaking, and the screaming stops. Once more, everyone is silent. I imagine all the boys in the hallways, their ears pressed to the floor, their bodies frozen in fear. I can hear the heartbeats resting, as we all realise it isn't us. Not tonight.

They took Adam.

I lean down onto the ground and throw up. Bile spreads everywhere, and Leo shoots backwards, folding herself up against the wall.

"Klunk," she mutters, but manages to get the door open. "I'll get towels."

I'll spare you the details. The smell is putrid. I hadn't realised I felt so sick.

Someone is behind me, rubbing my back, but I can't look up to see who. This is only getting worse, this constant vomiting, and I know what is going on. I'm not stupid enough to miss it, I've just been pretending it might go away.

I'm pregnant.

Someone wipes my face clean with a towel, lifting me out of the mess. Leo goes about cleaning it up in front of me. I turn around to see Teresa, rubbing my back and reassuring me. I step up, away from her even though I still feel like I could throw up.

I try to stay standing, but I am dizzy and end up falling into the bed. If Leo says anything I ignore her. Leo throws me a clean, but wet towel. I wipe my face again, though I know the smell won't go away. I feel disgusting. Eventually, and by eventually, I mean by the time Leo leaves the room for the day to start, and the dawn is peaking into the window, a stranger in my house, I fall asleep.

"I'm sick and tired of this klunk! We're never getting out of here!"

You know when you are awake, but you're still trying to sleep since you are exhausted, but you keep waking up? Every few minutes, it seems, all though it could be every few hours, you're eyes flutter open. You can hear people around you, but you try to let sleep melt you into the mattress. No matter how hard I try, I can't sleep. Minho is screaming at the top of his lungs, and though that isn't causing my insomnia it certainly isn't helping. He's not in the room, and he isn't screaming at me, but his voice fills the space. It fills me.

I crawl out of bed. I smell nasty. It's mostly the vomit on my breath. I grab the toothbrush next to it, running it along my teeth over and over again, trying to make it smell better. I even use a dab of toothpaste, even though we are going to run out of it quickly. It's worth it.

I get dressed too, picking out my clean jeans and a different top. Minho's, only because all of mine are dirty. I'm going to have to get use to this, since nobody knows if the pipes are still piping in water or if they'll go dry too. If that happens, we're going to die.

Whatever.

I tie my hair up, though it too smells not the greatest. I'll need to ask Newt later if I can shower. The water rationing thing has caused him to ban bathing. I leave the room despite my odour, popping into the hall. Newt and Minho are surely in a screaming match in the Glade.

I run into Minho in the hallway. He shoves past me and slams the door behind him. I follow in after him.

He collapses onto the bed, keeping his clothes on as he lies down. I half expect him to start screaming and throwing a temper tantrum like a child, but he doesn't. I doubt he even sees me in the room.

Hair sticking up on end, clothes drenched in sweat, it looks like he might be more in need of a shower than I am. I have no idea how long he's been gone, but it has to be closer to a day, if not more. I wonder if they slept in the Maze, or if they've been awake all night.

"Hello to you too," I don't mean for it to come out as snarky as it does, but I can't help myself. I'm tired.

He rolls onto his side to face me, pulling himself up out of the bed. He looks down at his lap, fists shaking. "Dawn, please. Not now."

"You're sulking like a child," I don't know why this conversation is escalating so quickly, but I don't know how to calm it down.

He turns away from me at this. So what, he thinks he's the only one dealing with klunk? I slept for maybe an hour last night, and threw up too, and I'm probably pregnant, and he gets to whine and complain? When he is actually able to help? While I am stuck here?

"What's your problem?" I move over to the bed, hitting him with a pillow.

He spins around, sitting up and staring at me. I watch his chest heave up and down, and him close his eyes carefully.

"Please Dawn," He sighs, trying to remain calm. His hands are shaking. "Please. I'm having a really bad day."

I don't care if he is having a really bad day. I need him too. It's not fair that he is this stressed, but its not fair that I am either.

"No," I argue, crossing my arms over my chest. "You don't get to just shut me out because you had a bad day. I'm having an awful week." My voice cracks at the end.

He stands up, moving behind me and shutting the door again. I almost expected him to leave. He has run away so many times, and we are both exhausted, and I'm not being pleasant, but like always, he surprises me. His eyes are kind. He turns to face me, staring.

"I'm just tired," he manages. "I've been up for hours, Dee. I don't know what else to do."

I notice the bags under his eyes, and the cracks in his skin. His body moves slowly, and his arms lag behind him as he moves.

"I'm sorry," I manage, stepping closer to him. "I had a really bad night too."

He sighs, putting his hands on my arms. As he hugs me, I can feel his heart-beating. We're both tired. Not just from the night, but from the situation.

"I don't know, Dawn," Minho begins. "I don't think there is a way out. I think we are trapped."

Now is not the time to tell him I'm pregnant.

Things will only get worse, since he thinks we have no hope. He doesn't need to know that there is an extra person being added to the equation. Panic will just set in, and all his bones will turn to jelly and he'll collapse. Besides, he'll get way more protective and possessive than he already is, and I don't know if I could handle that.

"We have to keep looking," I try to reassure him.

"Shuck Dawn, the Walls aren't even moving, and we don't know where we are going." There's desperation in his voice as he holds on to me.

We're going to have to listen to our friends get picked off one by one by one then. If there is no other option, we're going to have to endure like that every night. I don't think that could be our reality. There's no bloody way we were all put here to die. The klunk we've been through, the rage we've felt, all of that klunk is ending now. It ends today.

"Tomorrow, I can help you look," I tell him. "You can show me that Griever hole you keep mentioning, and you can get a fresh pair of eyes."

He shakes his head back and forth, moving us to the bed. "I'm not making you go out there. Not again. No way."

"No other way. You need all the help you can get," I tell him, as we lie together.

He looks at me with his soft eyes, and I can hear the sentence that is about to come out his lips. He doesn't want me out there. He wants me here, where it is safe, and where nobody can hurt us.

"I'm not delicate," I tell him, whispering closer to him. He hears my words. They sink into his skin, and those his eyes are still hollow, he nods. "I'm not alone either. We can help you. You don't have to do this alone."

"I need to save you," he shakes his head back and forth. "It's different now. Not just since the night in the Maze. Since Ben too. That was my fault."

"That was my fault," I argue.

He pulls me in against his chest but shakes his head back and forth. As he breathes, his ribs heave in and out. Shuddering. Trying not to cry.

"It wasn't your fault," he argues. "I wasn't there, and I need to be there for you."

I nod, leaning in closer to him. Even if he wants to be, I can't tell him. Not if it's going to break him like this. I don't blame him for wanting to help me. After Ben, things changed. After the night he spent trapped in the Maze, things have been warped so much that I barely recognize the past.

If he feels the same, he doesn't tell me. Instead, he sucks me in, and I wait for him to drift off to sleep.

It takes me a few minutes to slither out of his arms. He needs his rest, and I guess I do too, but I can't sleep. I can't think very much either. The world is spinning and slipping around me. Our Glade is going to die. All I've ever known. I must leave. It doesn't bother me, it just feels weird.

We have to get out of here, we have to find a way to live. One day, I will see the stars. Real ones, not just ones that can be taken away. I'll see the ocean too, and sand. Even if it is far away, I will live the life I always wanted, with the people I love, and there will be no one to stop me.

No one to call me fragile.


	36. I could be Dave

Michelle 35

I finally manage to sneak out of bed. It isn't an easy task, and the night is almost over, but I move. The flood boards creek under my feet.

My head still hurts, but it's a dull ache. It's not a concussion though, that much they have noticed. My brain has been working fine, and I haven't felt any worse than any one would feel after getting hit in the head by a boy they used to sleep with. I guess, anymore than anyone else would.

"Got the Builder curse, you should be in bed," I step out into the hall, and Clint is waiting for me next to the door.

It's late. Really late. Late enough that we are supposed to be silent and blend in with the rest of the building. I don't have an excuse for being up, except that being in a room for hours upon hours really sucks. Being blind sucks more, but whatever.

"What Builder curse?"

Clint leans over, spinning my chin to face him. I knock his hand away from me, insisting. "I asked you a question."

"It's only Builders so far," he mentions. "Would suck if it was another Builder next."

That's a shucking shucked up way to put it. As if we will die, one after another after another. As if we can be reduced to a single syllable and a single sentence. A curse if you will. Gally died, and then Adam died, and its like Clint isn't mourning. He's even shucking creepier than Winston.

Clint simply persists, his hands wrapping around my chin. He is examining my face. "Wound's still fresh. The hit was nasty. My best guess is that it takes a month to heal."

I step back, moving away. Yeah, I know I look shucked up. Thanks for reminding me. The cut wraps across my jaw, slicing all the way up past the back of my ear and towards me head. No shucking klunk it looks bad.

I look hurt because he hurt me. The force he used is displayed on my skin. He didn't mean to hurt me, he meant to knock me down. Or, at least whatever thing that took over Gally and made him want to die did this.

This physical pain resonates with the emotional one. It's just how the world works.

"Still can't see?" He asks.

I back away, rolling my eyes. Or my eye. I haven't asked any one if I can move both. Klunk, what if I look shucking weird? No one will ever take me seriously again.

"Just shuck off," I brush him off, moving away.

I make my way down the hall, moving forward through the Homestead. I don't know where I am planning to go, or where I'm planning to be. Maybe dead in the mouth of a Griever for all I shucking know. Not like if it approached me from the right that I could see it. Could grab me without me even knowing.

I walk around the corner, trying to find where I need to go, and I feel it. Call it fate, or call it what it actually is (a stomach ache from dehydration), I find myself stopping in front of the room they are having me sleep in. Or, are supposed to, before the Builders took over it. The room where Adam was sleeping last night.

I creep inside. The door squeaks on its hinges, though it opens. No one else in the Homestead makes a sound. I doubt anyone else is even awake to make one right now anyway.

The room is empty. Unlike every other space, crammed with people, no one dares to stand in here. The window is covered by dust, holding itself together by a thread. I guess they've tried to repair it after last night to know luck. They've run out of spare wood, so it seems they've taken to using the ruins of the Map room to protect us. Easily flammable, and it looks to be easily blown away. Like the whole structure could disappear like dandelion seeds into the air. Like Gally left, and Adam left, and everyone who I have ever known, truly.

But not Dave.

The thought keeps me from hitting my fists against the wall.

He is still alive. Even, he helped me last night and I showed him no thanks. As far as I can tell, I told him off. I might not have needed him, but he was there for me. He put himself in front of me to protect me from seeing Gally. Not to show off himself.

In the time I've been here, I've learned to tell a selfish act from a selfless one. When Winston told me to ask Gally what he did to Nick, that was a selfish decision. He wanted Gally and I to fight, or he wanted drama, but he didn't want to warn me. He used me like a chess piece.

I can never tell if Gally did the same, and I could never tell if Dave did either, but last night I knew. And even if I don't love him (not that I love anybody), I've got to at least not be his enemy. I've got too many enemies. It's how you get killed really.

Dave needs to know we can count on each other. Or, that he sort of helped me, and I'm kind of thankful he didn't let anyone trample on me in the commotion last night.

My feet creep down the stairs. They squeak. Half the boys in the main room of the Homestead turn to face me, glaring me down. At least I can bet I won't be waking Dave up. Maybe he too is worried about that ridiculous 'Builder curse' or some other klunk. Maybe he is waiting for me, just like I'm waiting for him.

He's lying on the floor, back against the wall where we were last night. I step down next to him, lightly kicking his back. Flying back, sheets flashing, he turns violently, as if he was expecting a Griever to have snuck up on him.

When he sees me, he rolls his eyes and falls back to sleep.

I kick him again, and this time he ignores me. He doesn't move back to face me, or so much as acknowledge my presence.

"Get up," I hiss.

There are people around us staring at me. He's making me cause a scene. People are going to start to talk. Start to think I was shacking him, and Gally, and everyone else I've been shaking. I want no part in that.

"The board on my window is falling off," I whisper it loud enough that the silent room can hear it. All the Gladers need to know that I don't like him. Especially after he was carrying me around like I'm some princess.

He rolls over towards me. "Just sleep in here."

"I'm sleeping in there," I shake my head back and forth. "Clint will have your head in."

Dave sighs, getting up off the ground. His feet sound so loud against the floor. It's like he's trying to stomp but doesn't want to draw any attention to himself that he doesn't need. After all, any second now there will be a monster outside our door, ready to attack us.

I don't have it in me to stomp, so I follow him up the stairs. Once we are on the landing, he rounds his way into my room. He shuts the door behind us, staring at the window. The wooden planks are in place and are fine. No Griever is getting in here. If anything, the Med-room is safer than any other spot in the Homestead. I can't tell if they reinforced it so well that the monster can't reach the most vulnerable, or if they are trying to protect the outside world from me.

"Couldn't just ask to talk to me?" He turns to face me.

I can see the red that fills his cheeks. He's trying to be angry, but it's only a facade. Whatever emotion is underneath, I don't care to dissect.

"There were people there," I lean back against the door, making sure it is shut. Ensuring no one will come barging in.

"And?" He continues, moving further away from me. "And you didn't want them to know about us, did you?"

I cross my arms over my chest, turning to face him. What does he expect me to say? I don't want everyone to think I'm easy, or that I'm a piece of the pie anyone can grab. I've had enough of Ben and his copycats. I've had enough of people thinking they can have a slice of me.

"Just leave Michelle," he turns his back, crossing the room. He hangs by the window.

"This is my room," I tell him.

"Fine," he moves closer to me, knocking into my shoulder. I push him back. Stumbling, he falls into the center of the room. The sound shakes the whole house.

"Let me leave," he picks himself up off the ground. He is a corpse-length away from me.

"No," I have to tell him that I want to be friends, but I can't. I can't make myself say it.

He crosses his arms over his chest. "You don't get to keep me here. Not after hiding me from everyone else. Not after using me for weeks. Not after what you said that night."

I really, barely remember, but I wanted him to let go. Every part of my body wanted to save Gally, and Dave was holding me back. Protecting me, when I didn't need it. Gally needed me, and I failed because of Dave.

"I meant what I said," I maintain my resolve.

"Then why even bring me here?" He demands. His voice rises to fill the room. "Looking for a rebound? I know I'm not Gally, and I never wanted to be. I wanted you, anyway I could have you. Shuck you screwing around with me. I'm done."

"You don't get to be done."

He steps closer to me. His fingers itch at his sides, but instead of reaching for my neck he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I will get to be done with you when I want to be," he shakes a bit as he says it. "Was it for the attention Michelle?"

I just stare at him. I don't even know what he is talking about.

"Because I shucking loved you Michelle." He sighs, recoiling from me. His body turns around, to hide his face from mine. His shoulders are heavy, moving up and down as he breathes. "I loved every inch of you, and you don't get a shucking pass for using me. We both deserve better than that."

"You're a shucking joke," I tell him. I can feel my eyes burning. I hope its not with tears. If I cried, I'd never live to see another day. I would die from embarrassment.

"Go back to shacking Winston, or whoever you're going to use next since you can't have Gally," Dave spins around, and I see the regret flash in his eyes. I hear the pain in his voice. He almost asks it like a question, and now there are tears streaming down his face. "Because I am done with you using me to make him jealous. I'm done being your joke, Michelle, and I am done saving you from him. And his ghost."

"I hate you," I take my hand back, and slap him in the face.

He stumbles backwards, falling further behind me. His cheek is bright red. His eyes are too, and they leak onto his skin. I can see the fear on his face, and the sadness that washes over him and buries him alive in a sea.

I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it. Whatever I said, I didn't mean. I just can't believe that Gally is gone.

"Dave-"

The window is ripped out from behind his head, and a Griever grabs hold of him.

He screams, as it leaps into the room, holding onto him. I don't know what to do but run. I burst out the door, running far away, but I can hear it behind me. I can hear Dave screaming and crying. I push my way through the bodies in the front room, that scatter about at the sound, running out the back door. I am the only one moving for the front, with the Griever fast behind me.

I make it out the door, diving on to the ground. My face lands in the dirt, and my body freezes. My heart thumps through my body, and my chest is constricting. I struggle to hear. The Griever continues on, ignoring me, whirring and creaking forwards.

Thomas blasts out the door behind me, chasing the Griever. I pull myself up behind him, sprinting as fast. I have to save Dave. They have to take Thomas instead. I have to apologise.

"Dave!" I can hear myself yelling. I won't let myself cry, even though tears stream down my face. If I cry, I won't be able to see, and I will lose him. "Dave!"

Thomas leaps on to the Griever holding Dave. A few swarm, until there are three or four. They are goners for sure. There is no hope.

There is someone on me, holding me back though they don't need to. I'm not going to chase them. I can't save him.

"Dave!" The sound rips through my throat, burning through every vocal cord, setting me on fire. He needs to hear me. "Dave!"

Thomas escapes, darting out of the mess and collapsing on the ground. He is swarmed by Newt, and then more and more.

"Dave!" I am crying now. My knees give way beneath me, and I fall to the ground. I roll on to my back.

I'm vulnerable. Everyone can see me, but it doesn't matter. Dave is dead. I've lost him.


	37. I could be steady in the wind

Ella 36:

I return here, again, and again, and hover over bodies.

At first, I hovered over myself. I watched my body attempt to find recognition in sleep. Rising and falling, rising and falling, rising and falling. I walked the same path day after day. Saw the same faces, in a different order. On the worst days, their colours were distorted and blurred, and angry. Those days, I had trouble recognizing myself through it all. Now, I have forgotten.

Then, I would watch over different girls as they slept. Michelle, Dawn, and Leo have had their fair share of time, unconscious. Their thoughts didn't swim like mine. At the end of it, they got to experience new events. Breathe new air and live new lives. Somehow, the world isn't static for them.

Even amongst all this change, I find myself unconcerned. It is unimportant, a negligible detail. After all, all that I can think of is the past. The present will only carry me along, but the future lies in that which I have forgotten. Erased by hands I did not ask for. Stolen by choices I did not make.

Now, before me, the one who has made these choices has been presented with the opportunity to remember. He did not know the boy who was taken, so I can only assume he chased after this pain with the intent of recalling.

As glad as I am, I am jealous. This boy, who I can't remember disliking, gets the one thing I am craving. Justice is an instrument that either does not exist or has been manipulated to weigh out in the favour of the evil.

Maybe, I cannot seem to figure out how to adapt. Since he is not the boy who was there, nor is anyone the person who was there, maybe I must turn to the present. After all, how can I hate someone who has not done the things which I hate him for?

He lies, just like me, rising and falling.

Thomas. I want to remember him too. At one point, we knew each other. For what purpose, and for what intent I know not.

He squirms around on the mattress. Sweat beading on his skin, sliding down his neck. They threw one in here. Every time he begins to scream, there is another Med-jack who runs in to check on him. Although, they find themselves preoccupied now.

I could still do it, if I wanted to. I could kill him. Although, that was another girl. One who was close to remembering. One whose body was not her own. How could that have been less than two weeks ago?

It's all about proportion. Since I remember so little, everything seems to me much slower than it actually is. Every minute feels like a year. When I remember again, it will be different. There will be weeks and months of memories to pool.

Solution: Ask Thomas what he remembers.

He groans, and I stumble back. My feet race out the door. I round the corner, running into a boy I don't recognise. He grunts, pulling me off him by the collar, before dragging me off.

I don't really know what happens next. It sort of blurs together. My feet are dragged, from one location to the next. Is this walking? I can't tell if this movement is autonomous or not.

"Ella," a voice snaps me out.

I remember it to be turquoise. I remember it to laugh, and play with daisies, and smile, and worry. It's the voice of my Keeper.

Zart is kneeling before me. I am on my knees too. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face, trying to tuck it behind my ear. It's a physical gesture I haven't noticed before. I don't notice the physical. I barely recognize faces most days. It's colours that seep into me. It's a specific feeling.

"Are you okay?"

We're in a room, alone. Is it his room? It's a part of the Homestead (I assume it is the Homestead) that I haven't been to before.

He notices me glancing around. "I thought you'd like it here. Minho is out for the day, running. So no one will bother us."

I have been in here before. It sets me back that I had forgotten the room. It's a lot cleaner than I remember. Maybe that's it. I hope it isn't my doing that the sight is unfamiliar.

"Are you okay, El?"

I nod, since I think I am. Of course, I could be wrong. It could be true, maybe. I don't remember.

He leans away, further from me. It's almost like he is disappearing before my own eyes. Sort of similar to melting away. To evaporating. To turning to smoke, and filling the room.

Right, I remember there was a smoke man. Although, not much about him. I just remember disliking him far more than Thomas. Thomas was a means to an end. He, the smoke man, was my real enemy.

"I'm sorry," he mentions it briefly, looking down.

I'm still mad at this boy for doing this to me. I have to remind myself of this, since I have forgotten. Not because of what he's done, but because I find my attention focused elsewhere.

"I truly am."

At this, I get up and leave the room. Bouncing around is better than this. How can he rectify this? He can't. That's why I'm upset. How can't he tell that I am broken down, piece by piece. Here, I too ache. My stomach burns as well. Every single inch of my skin screams. All because I need to know what to fix.

I need to know why I chose to come here. Was it all for her? For a face I don't even remember? For nights we have both forgotten? If neither of us remembers, how will we find each other. There is no way to fix this problem. Not after what he has done to me. Not after the agony I have been put through.

It feels like I am trapped in a washing machine. Tumbling and tumbling, spinning and spinning, swimming and swimming. There is no rising and falling. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. Here, there is no God. Any semblance of truth and dignity is stolen way. All of it, gone forever and ever.

Or maybe, not quite gone forever. Maybe just gone for a little while. Perhaps, I can find some salvation.

That is when I come to terms with it.

Solution: remember.

I am angry, and I am in the Bloodhouse. I pick up the knife.


	38. I could be gripping

Leo 37

I sit down next to Teresa on the steps, unsure of what to say. Since she's only been up for a few days, I can't really comprehend how she is so attached to Thomas. It hasn't even been a few days, has it? Honestly, everything is blurring into itself, so it could be yesterday she came here, or it could've been a month ago.

"Whenever I sit here, someone comes to yell at me," I mutter, turning to face her. "It's not really the best place to sit in the middle of the day. People want to get by."

Teresa shrugs away from me, her hair wrapping around her and obscuring her dainty features. Does she realize I can see her?

"If you want though, I might be able to sick Michelle on whoever yells at us," I tell her. "It's kind of the only advantage to being a girl here. We've got Michelle to beat up anybody."

She looks over at me, then down at my hands. I can't help but recoil them on instinct. The burns that spot my skin are all too apparent. Jeff was right, they did heal white. Although, I've been in the sun so much with each passing day the juxtaposition grows stronger and stronger. Little traces of acid on my fingers.

"Who did that?" She asks, staring at them.

I've never really talked about it, especially not to a stranger. I don't think I told anybody, actually.

"Gally," if I want her to trust me, I've got to let her in. "He was mad at me, a while ago. It wasn't on purpose, but it wasn't an accident either."

She scoffs, before looking back at me. "And what did Michelle do to him for that?"

Nothing, but Teresa doesn't need to know that. Besides, I'm sure she has already figured it out, since Gally and Michelle were more than friends. There's no use bringing it up to Michelle now. Two of her best friends were just murdered, one night after the other. Now she's shucking blind.

"I never told her," I tell her. "Since I know she'd have killed him."

"Bit late for that," Teresa scoffs.

Yeah, I guess it is. Very soon though, this fighting between Teresa and Michelle is going to need to stop. The longer these days go on, the worse it is going to get. One boy a night, over and over again. Eventually, we are going to have to step in and do something. When that day comes, we have to all be in it. I can't handle having them bickering.

There's no use arguing about this. "I'm sorry about Thomas."

"I am too," she gets up, moving further away from me. "He's just so stupid. I can't believe he is so stupid."

She walks away from the Homestead, and I am forced to follow her. I wish Dawn was here, since she always seems to know what to say and do. I'm not very good at it. Besides, her and Michelle are the one's who have actually suffered loss, or close to it.

"They recover," I tell her, as if it means anything. "I watched Alby recover."

"Alby is crazy," she spits.

I can't argue with that. Everyone who remembers has gone nuts. Ben did, although he was nuts to begin with. Same goes for Gally. Alby simply got the push over the edge he needed. I don't really know any success stories, but I don't go around demanding to know who went through the Changing.

You wouldn't know it, but it's a rude thing to ask. Maybe because it insinuates someone is crazy. It's so personal.

"Thomas isn't like them," I don't really know Thomas.

She spins around on her heels. "So what is Thomas like then?"

"Good," I tell her. From the few interactions I've had with him, I can tell he means well. He ran after Minho when it meant death. He wanted to help Ben when he first went crazy. He tried to stop Gally from escaping, despite all that Gally has done to him. Down beneath it all, Thomas means well. "He's a good person. He's good to you, and he's good to us all."

"Then why would he do that?" She demands. "Why would he go get stung if he is so good to us all? I don't get it."

I don't either. The pieces don't really fit together. If Ella was more herself, I'd ask her. Lately, she has been not-crazy. Normally, that would be a good thing, since illness plagues her body. In this situation, it proves highly unhelpful. Memories are her currency, and her bank seems empty.

"Probably for the same reason Thomas does everything else," I tell her.

Teresa just stares at me, expecting me to elaborate, but I can't. It's hard to explain. I don't really know Thomas, but I can observe him and then I can guess. I wish I had time to figure him out. Same goes for Michelle, even though I've had much longer than her. There aren't enough minutes in the day, or in the year.

Teresa stands up, her eyes lingering on me for a split second. Then she turns around, and heads into the Homestead, without a word. I wish I had the ability to make her feel welcome. Unfortunately, I don't seem to have quite so much luck. No matter what I do, she seems to slip away, from right between my fingers. I guess its like the rest of the girls.

The thing is, if I don't get to know her quickly, something awful is bound to happen. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. Although, I can't justify it enough to approach her.

"Lee!" I can hear Jeff screaming, from across the Glade. His voice is sharp, and rips at himself.

The sound comes from closer to the wall. I sprint over, my feet slipping out beneath me as I run. I can't quite tell where the voice is coming from.

"Jeff?" When I get to the Boxhole, I shout back at him.

"Lee!" The voice is coming from within the Bloodhouse.

I run up, inside the door, and when I enter, I freeze. Ella lies on the floor.

Blood pools out of the back of her neck. Her hand twitches, as it holds a bloody knife in it.

My knees slip out from beneath me, and I'm on the floor. I crawl over to her, turning her around to face me. Her skin is slippery from the blood. I don't have time to be careful. Lifting her up, and turning her over, I can see the open wound in her skin. The nick from which the blood seems to be pooling out.

"Ella," I turn her to face me, looking at her. Her skin is going pale and is losing its warmth. She's experiencing blood hemorrhage. She's probably lost half a litre. That's second stage blood loss. "Ellie, hey Ella. Ella!"

I put my hand to the cut, while Jeff stands still. His knees are shaking and he's crying.

"Get me a cloth!" I scream, looking over at him.

When he does move I continue. "Jeff, please!"

He sprints out the room, tumbling out the door. I can hear him throwing up outside.

"Klunk," I can't grab anything in here. I'm bound to get something in the wound that will infect it.

"Help!" I scream.

With one hand, holding on the pressure, I reach down into my belt's pockets. These bandages will have to do. I hold them up to her neck, the blood immediately soaking through them. Is she still bleeding? She'll die if she keeps bleeding like this.

Winston barrels through the door, slipping and falling in the blood.

He scampers back, before running out the door.

I have to drop her. Placing her in her pool of blood, I take off my shirt, throwing it behind her neck to hold in the blood. My tank top will have to go next if this soaks through. At that point, she probably won't be bleeding anymore.

I lift her back up, keeping her head above her heart. Holding her against my chest as tightly as I can.

"Hold on Ellie," I whisper into her hair. "Just hold on another second. Come on."

Clint barrels in the room, dropping down next to me. He flips her over, placing her on her back. Lifting my fingers carefully, he gives himself to examine the jagged self-inflicted wound.

"We have to close it," he drops my hands back down, searching for anything to help.

"In here?" I demand. "Now?"

He nods, grabbing a cloth out from his belt, as well as disinfectant, he pours it messily, the liquid spilling all over the ground, before he closes the bottle.

"You've got to stitch it," he tells me.

"This is not the time for me to learn how to stitch!" I yell, as he takes the fabrics out of my hands and places them on to the ground next to me. He hands me the disinfected cloth.

"My hands won't stop shaking!" He yells. "I need you to do it!"

I wipe off the blood that remains to see the cut in her skin. It is a small spot, but it is deep. You can't stich over something like this, I just need to apply pressure. At this point, the bleeding has almost stopped anyway.

So I hold her firmly. "Too much tissue has been removed!"

He sits, thinks, before taking her out of my arms. He holds her carefully, looking up at me then back down at Ella.

Her skin is turning grey.

"Klunk," he looks up at me, then back down at her. "Klunk."

He hands her back to me, before running out the room, forcing me to hold her.

Blood is running down her neck, but it's slowing. We are getting closer to a full litre now, but not quite. For someone her size, that's rounding near a third of her blood loss. Soon, she'll die. I can't sew it shut. I can't do anything for her.

Clint is back in the room, holding a tube, placing it in front of me. "Attach me in."

"What?" He can't be serious. "I can't just give her a shucking blood transfusion! What if your AB? What if she's O?"

"We have no other choice!" He argues.

"What are the odds we don't kill her?"

He hands me the tube. "Maybe 10%? If we don't, she will absolutely die."

I take the tube from his hand, and he hands me a needle. Shuck, am I really doing this? I search for an artery in her arm, and then inject her with the needle, attaching the tube to the end. Clint needs help, since his hands are so shaky, but he directs me to a vein in his arm. Soon enough, I watch blood flow from him to her.

"Now we wait." He says. It might take fifteen minutes.

I nod, picking back up the rags, which are now soaked in blood, and hold them to the back of her neck. Fifteen minutes. I count them down, breathing in and out. I stare at her carefully. Slowly, colour creeps up onto her skin. Slowly, I can feel her heart rate calming. She seems okay.

Clint's paling though. Maybe he's been pale this whole time. Maybe I'm pale too.

"Why would she do this?" I ask, after the first few minutes of silence. Maybe it's only been seconds, but it feels like hours. "I don't understand."

Clint sighs, averting his eyes from mine.

"What did you do?" My voice is raspier than I intended.

"Go Leo," he tells me. "It's been fifteen minutes. We're compatible."

"What did you do?" I demand again, holding on to Ella.

"Leo," he continues.

Jeff walks in the room, as pale as Clint. Behind him are Newt and Alby, staring down at the mess. Jeff doesn't move, simply favouring to stand still.

"Go clean yourself Leo." Clint instructs, no longer asking. "Jeff, grab Ella."

He takes the girl from my hands, carefully. I can't wrestle him for her. She's still bleeding. If I fight it, it's just going to cause problems.

"What did you do?" I ask Clint.

He looks over to Alby and Newt. "She needs to get out of here. She's going to go into shock."

I am not. As far as I can tell, I'm fine. Even if my hands are shaking. I'm not panicking. I'm firm and strong, and demanding to know what he did to her.

"We'll talk," Alby says. "You take her, Newt."

Newt walks over, helping me off the ground. Even though I'm covered in blood, and even though he has a limp, he helps me back to the Homestead. His weight carries me back behind the building, into the showers. The water is heavy when he turns the tap on. I can hear it thumping on the ground. I wait for him to leave me, but he doesn't. His arm wraps around mine, pulling me with him. He stands under the water with me, blood running down into the drain, until we are both soaking wet.

As the water engulfs us, he pulls me into a hug. I'm crying, and he only holds me tighter.


	39. I could be fragile

Dawn 38

I stand above the Griever hole. Or, I guess its just a cliff. There's nothing special to this place, other than the pebbles that seem to vanish into thin air after Minho throws them down.

"See," he mutters, rubbing his hands through his hair. He's just as exhausted as last night. His skin is dry from both the sun and the lack of bathing. "There's nothing else here."

"I could jump down there," I offer. "Figure out what there is to see."

He almost laughs, shaking his head. "You want to throw yourself down into a pit with the shucking Grievers?"

"It's an idea at least," I shrug, though I know it's barely an idea. Half-baked.

It's getting late. If there were a sun, it would be in danger of setting, and it'll probably take us a decent chunk of time to get back to the Glade. Minho is either bitter from the heat or from the exhaustion of running and running and running. He has almost sweat through his shirt and can't seem to handle himself.

"You think it's a good idea to throw yourself into the Griever hole?" His voice is slow as he turns his back to the Cliff. His body sways, as does his voice. He's dangerously close to the edge, and it makes me nervous. "What do you think that will solve?"

"Something!" I manage, turning on my feet to stare at him. A fire roars out of me I barely recognize. "It's just a shucking idea. I'm not going to break if you don't handle me with bloody care. I'm not a china doll. I can do what I want. I can beat anything."

His back stiffens. Our eyes meet. His face is still, and his eyes are warm. They call to me. "What's going on Dee?"

I'm pregnant. That's what's happening. I am delicate, and fragile, but only because there is a human inside me. I hold something that we share. There is a part of him growing within me, and I can't tell him. I can't tell him because we are going to die soon, and because he is stressed out, and because I don't need to break when I think about how much I am hurting him.

I don't know what to do. He deserves to know, but I can't tell him. I can't hurt him like that.

"I'm going back to the Glade," I toss over my shoulder, moving around him and rounding a corner.

"I'll take you back." He sighs, trying to turn around and be in front of me.

I need to be alone. Now, I can't be with him. Not when I know about this thing leeching off me, that I don't want but am bound to. I messed up and now our whole lives are going to change. I can't do that to him, or to us. I love him too much for that.

"Believe it or not Minho, I'm not a shucking idiot." I can feel myself trying to be angry, since if I'm not angry I'm going to start crying. "And don't follow me. The Grievers are the least of my problems right now."

He tries to ignore me, grabbing my wrist. I shove him back.

"Don't touch me," I don't know how else to warn him that I am a ticking time bomb. Tears seep from my eyes. "Don't touch me ever again."

"Dawn," he begins. "What is up with you? Why are you doing this?"

He doesn't understand. He can't, he couldn't. I'm just so angry. Why am I doing this? It's not as if I have much of a choice.

"I mean it," I can't help but sob now. I can't help but hurt, because I can't do this. "If you do, you'll be no different than Ben."

He flinches, recoiling backwards, and I take the opportunity to run away. My feet tripping and stumbling as they sink deeper into the pool of tears I leave behind. I can't believe I've left him. How could I do that? Why would I?

It's night by the time I get back to the Glade. It took me longer since I made a few wrong turns. I'm not infallible, I guess. Doesn't make me fragile.

I walk around to the back of the Homestead, knocking on the door. It swings open, Leo waiting on the other side for me.

She pulls me into a tight hug as soon as she sees me. Her hair is a mess, falling out of her lose bun, and her clothes aren't hers. The bags under her eyes aren't abnormal, but the sickly colour of her skin is.

"What's wrong?" I ask, holding on to her carefully.

She pulls away from me, looking me in the eye.

"It's been a long day," she tells me. "For a second, Michelle had me convinced you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

Even Leo can believe in me. Leo, a girl whose name is synonymous with panic, was worried I'd be back tomorrow. At least she can bet on me coming back.

"Was Michelle the reason your day was long?" I ask, gesturing behind her to see if I can go inside the Homestead.

She shakes, moving away so I can walk inside. After a second of peering around into the Glade, she shuts the door.

"No Minho?" She asks.

I shake my head. "He's still running."

"He didn't walk you back?" Leo asks.

I shake my head, which I hope doesn't make her think less of him. It's not his fault. I'm pushing him away.

"Are you guys alright?" She asks, but in a soft way. In the way a friend cares. I don't know how he and I are doing though.

"These days are so stressful," I tell her. "He keeps worrying about me."

She shrugs. "Probably because he cares about you? And, the only thing that can stop you other than sedative is Minho. So, I guess he has reason to worry."

She has a point. I don't know. I just can't explain this mess to her.

"Thanks Lee," I don't really know what else to say. She's always right about this stuff. I've seen her give advice to Michelle too, as crazy as that sounds. It tends to work out in our favors. Minho has reason to worry. I can't change that.

"Why are we here?" I ask, as we stand outside the door to the Med-room.

She pauses. The air thickens around her, only causing her shoulders to tense and her to take a deep breath in. "Ella hurt herself this morning," she tells me. My eyes widen, and she grabs me, quickly shaking my head back and forth. "She's okay. She's going to live."

How bad was it? "What happened?"

Leo pauses. Now I can see why she appears so different. She was treating Ella. Did Curly throw up on her? Is that why those aren't her clothes?

"She cut her neck open," I'm thankful she doesn't beat around the bush, although I know she is trying to. Her eyes dart back and forth "She's fine now though. We did a blood transfer."

I nod, taking it in. How much did she bleed out? Is that what happened to Leo's clothing? No wonder Leo's skin is sickly pale.

"Go to bed," I tell her. "You can sleep in Minho's room. I'll watch over Ella tonight."

She shakes her head. "I need to check on her."

"I'll wake you if anything happens." I tell her. I want to assure her nothing bad will happen, but that will only freak her out. If I say that, the opposite is bound to come true.

She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before passing by me. "Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever," I smile lightly. "Just go to bed Leo."

I don't keep moving until I am sure she is done. The house is relatively quiet now, except for the whispers of boys as Leo walks by them. Once she is down the stairs, and once I hear Minho's door shut, I enter the room. Ella lies on the bed, sleeping softly. Teresa sits in a chair near the edge of the mattress.

"Hey," I manage, shutting the door behind me. I try to stop it from squeaking on its hinges.

Ella's skin is only a shade lighter than it is normally, which at least means she is recovering well. I can't believe she cut her neck open. Not that I know the girl well, but that seems extreme even for her. I don't even know why she would do it, nor why Teresa is here watching her. In fact, I don't like it.

"You don't need to keep an eye on her," she tells me, her eyes lingering on Ella.

Was she listening in on my conversation? "Sorry?"

"Seriously, you've been running all day." Teresa doesn't make eye-contact with me, or even acknowledge that I've enter the room. "Trust me. Jeff already asked me to stay. You can go to sleep."

I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to sit down with Teresa, just to spite her, but the other half is too exhausted to care. Besides, if Teresa was going to hurt Ella, she'd have done it already, before I entered the room.

"Thanks," I nod, turning around.

I just need to get to shucking sleep.

I head down the stairs, avoiding Minho's bedroom (where I know Leo is), and heading into a side room. When I spot Frankie and Joe, together in one corner, I move over towards them. I lean against the wall beside them.

Frankie hands me one of his extra pillows and offers me a blanket. I decline though, since it's so hot in the Homestead. There are so many bodies sandwiched together. I don't want to sweat anymore, or I will really reek. Alby still hasn't decided if we are allowed to shower yet, though I doubt he'll let us. We don't know when there we'll run out of water.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Frankie asks. "We're going to start rationing. I think a fight might break out."

Alby assigned us with the responsibility of safe-guarding the Kitchens. People aren't going to get three meals a day anymore, and it's up to me to stop the boys from trying. I really don't want to put up with that. "We'll manage."

Joe barely turns to pay attention to us.

Frankie gets up. "I'll go get Fry. He wanted to brief us when you got back about the plan. Since, it'll be only the four of us versus the whole Glade."

He's right. Dave died. He would be here, but he isn't. I still can't believe it. Every time someone mentions his passing, it just sounds fake to me. There's no way he's dead. People can't just drop and die, like flies falling. Gally, and Dave, and Adam. I wonder how much the other Builders are panicking. It's only been them so far.

Makes me feel safe tonight.

Frankie is out of the room, and I turn to Joe. He barely speaks. In all the weeks we've been working together I haven't gotten so much as a peep out of him. Even though we get along just fine, and work together more often then not.

"Joe, can I ask you a question?"

He turns to me, before looking me up and down. His dark skin is casted in shadows, and though I can't see his pupils, his eyes are bright. "You're pregnant."

Panic climbs in my chest, but no one seems to have heard him. Weeks of silence, and he speaks now?

"Morning sickness," he tells me, expecting my confusion. "Fry assumed you had food poisoning. I disagreed."

I guess that's the most obvious sign. Still, I couldn't believe he had noticed. At this point, I can't even be more than a couple weeks. Not even a full month yet. In fact, I'm still not a hundred percent.

If he seems to think so too though, I guess it's not just me.

"Should I tell Minho?" I ask, turning back to face him.

He pauses for a second, opening and closing his mouth again and again. As if, he too doesn't know the answer.

"I think-"

"Hey," Frankie comes back in, sitting down across from us. With him, is a barely conscious Fry.

I pull my knees against my chest. Joe closes his open mouth, deciding against talking for at least the time being.

Frankie furrows his brow. "What?"

That's when the whirring starts outside. Every night, again and again. I still feel my heart race. The others quiet too. If the house was quiet before, it is empty now. Frankie remains crouched, his hands poised in the air where he left them a minute ago. Even though Fry was barely awake before the sounds, now his eyes are alert. Even Joe seems to be listening.

I hope Minho is already out there. He was a few nights ago, but that doesn't mean today is any different. Why was I so mad that I just sent him off in the middle of the night? I can't believe I'm being so stupid. At this point, it's just ridiculous. Cruel, even.

Joe leans over, touching my hand with his. The sound is only getting louder and louder as we speak. I can hear it breathing or whatever it does that sounds like breathing. Clicking. My heart is pounding in my chest. This is the worst part. If it would just take someone, it would be better than these moments of anticipation.

The window above me smashes open, and a claw reaches in. It snatches Joe and rips him from my hand and out the window.

Just like that, they are gone, and I can't breathe.

That was so much worse. So much worse.


	40. I could be aggressive

Michelle 39

"What do you mean you are rationing us?" Jackson shouts at the Cooks.

The crowd gathering around the kitchen is massive. Nearly every Glader that isn't searching the shucking Maze is crowded in a circle around the Cooks, trying to get food. There is none though. The three of them that are left are guarding the entrance to the Kitchen. Two are gone: Dave and some other dude. I never learned his name.

That's how I know the curse on the Builders is broken. It's moved on to the Kitchen.

"We're starving!" Someone else calls out.

"We have no food," Fry tries to beat the voices shouting around him. "If we don't start going down to one snack and one meal a day, we will die before the week is up."

"It's my decision." Alby shows up. He still looks shucked. His skin is taut, and his hands almost purple in tint. Everyone has got to see he's lost it. I don't understand why Newt hasn't just taken over yet. Alby has gone crazy. "We ain't got lunch for you shanks. Get back to shucking work."

"There is no work!" Doug shouts back. "I'm finally on my shucking break from runnin' in that shuck Maze, and I can't eat!"

"We're all tired," Newt calls out. "But we need to do this, alright? Or else, we'll die before the Grievers pick us off."

People begin to stir and whisper, accepting this as truth.

"This is klunk." Jackson mutters, and charges for the kitchen. I dash through the crowd, shoving boys aside. Doug has him in a headlock before I can get there. As boys surge around me, trying to get in the doors, people begin to fight. Fry is shoving back Gladers with his arms, and Frankie and Dawn are both physically holding the kitchen shut.

"Enough!" Alby calls out. "If anyone steals food, they are getting banished."

"You can't banish no more!" Someone cries. "We've got no shucking doors."

He's right. There are no consequences for our actions. If I wanted to, I could kill Jackson. Or Doug. I mean, Jackson did come at me with a knife, and Doug stopped him. I'm still mad enough to kill someone over it.

But then, someone would kill me. Alby's power is and has always been fake, but the spiel he spreads is the truth. We can't just do what we want, or crowds break into violence. We can't handle chaos.

Newt whistles loudly, getting up on a picnic table, he pulls Leo up next to him. In her pale hands she holds a syringe. I wouldn't be surprised if she fainted and fell right off the table. Newt nudges Leo carefully, and she decides to speak.

"If anyone steals food, they'll be sedated." She instructs. She doesn't look happy about it, or unhappy. I guess she's prepared either way.

"Tied up and left for the Grievers." Newt finishes the sentence for her, a grimace on the face. "Stealing food is stealing our shucking lives."

"Deal?" Frypan's voice rings out.

Nobody answers, but people begin to back off. I guess they realise they can't just take whatever they shucking want. It's not just their life. It's everyone else's too at stake.

The crowd dissipates. Doug shoves Jackson off him. He lands in the dirt, and Jackson glares up at the boy.

Dawn thanks Doug briefly, with Frankie hanging on to her. Doug doesn't bother answering and chooses to walk off instead. When he catches my eye, he nods, gesturing towards the Deadheads. Something possesses me to follow him. I can't tell if he is calling me. At this point, I've got nothing to lose.

The forest is dark, but it always is. Especially without the sun. Thankfully, Doug is just standing on the edge of the forest, hiding under the trees. When he sees me, he sits down. Half his body is lounging in the sun, and the other remains in the shade.

"You happy it wasn't one of us last night?" He tells me, barely looking up. Doug has to squint to see me.

I cross my arms, refusing to join him on the ground. I don't know what he was expecting me to say. Yes, I'm super happy one of the Cooks is dead?

"We aren't buddy-buddy just because you pinned down Jackson." I tell him.

He nods, as if he isn't surprised. He runs a hand across his nose, before pulling his legs up towards him. Though he tries to hide behind the black hair on his head, Doug has no such luck.

"I don't want to be buddy-buddy," he tells me. "Now would you just sit down. You're like a shucking vulture."

I sit down, albeit begrudgingly. He's the vulture not me.

"I wanted to apologise." He tells me. "We weren't supposed to come at you with a knife."

"What did you want to do?"

He shrugs, leaning against the tree. He doesn't quite have an answer for me, but I was hoping he would. Something to justify why he was so klunk to me from the beginning.

"I think I just wanted to be mad," he tells me. "I was mad too. Because you and Dawn got Ben killed."

"Ben tried to hurt people," I tell him.

"I know," he sighs. He bites his lip, swallowing the information. "It's just hard to accept. I've known Ben pretty much as long as I can remember. No matter how hard I try, I can't imagine him hurting people. I thought maybe he did something like me, made a comment or some other klunk that you didn't like. Then he attacked Dawn, and I just..."

He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to, since maybe I don't get exactly what he means but I've felt this too. I did things I'd rather forget about. Told Dave I hated him right before he died. That's on me. I ruined his last seconds of life. I ruined all we had. I'm selfish, and Doug is selfish too. We're both here together.

"I just needed to apologise because it's what Adam wanted."

Adam died too. He was Doug's friend. I barely knew him, but he was the new Keeper. He tried to keep Doug and I from fighting, but so did Dave though, and now they are both dead. Adam and I have gone down roads we can't go on.

I don't have anything to add. The sun casts over our faces. Somehow, we've migrated from our original stance of opposition. Now, we both face out into the Glade, turned away from the forest. Instead of ruining the calm, I wait for him to continue.

"It doesn't feel like they are gone." He tells me. "Any minute, I expect Adam and Dave just to pop around the corner. I was finally getting use to Gally being gone, before he showed up again and ruined it."

"That wasn't Gally," I'm surprised when I say it, since I wasn't sure I believed it. I don't think he could've hit me in the face so hard I couldn't see. It doesn't register in my head. It doesn't make sense.

"Has your sight returned?" Doug asks. He reads my mind sometimes.

I look at him, shaking my head. It only really bothers me when someone points out that my face hasn't healed yet. Or, when I try to walk down stairs and slip on the first step, since it always seems farther away than it actually is. Everything feels torn apart. "Doubt it will come back."

"It sucks." He tells me. It really sucks.

I wish I could tell anyone but him, but everyone else is dead. There's only a couple of us Builders left. We are slowly being picked off one by one by one. I hate it. I hate this waiting. Sometimes I wish they'd just kill us all off at once. At least it might not be a Builder tonight. I wouldn't even want them to take Doug. There is something about mourning that does this too me. It makes me regret all the terrible things I've ever said and done.

"You were a jerk for catcalling me."

"You were a jerk to punch me in the face." He says it quieter, and not firmly. As if it's light-hearted. It was so long ago, I can barely remember it. The person who sits here today wouldn't punch him in the face. I guess, he wouldn't hurt me either.

The fighting is different though, since neither one of us started it. Maybe I hated him first and never realised it. None of that matters now. It's over. I never would've thought that before Dave died.

"So, who's Keeper now?" I ask.

"The only way we are getting out of this, is if we stopped doing that klunk." He tells me, leaning forward. "No more shucking Keepers. No more bosses. We've got to be equal, all of us. They didn't die for us to keep fighting."

"They didn't die for anything."


	41. I could be seeking

40 Ella

I managed to sneak out when Leo wasn't looking. It was easy since she had to tend to one of the Runners. He sprained his ankle.

I have a feeling that at the end of this, he isn't going to make it. It's too close to our demise to have a twisted ankle.

I creep down the stairs, hiding in a closet when I hear footsteps echoing through the Homestead. It could be anybody, since we are all stuffed inside this tiny building. I am causing to much noise to successfully escape. His screams have died down, creating a riff in the air. Thomas cannot help mask me in sound either.

Unfortunately, I have no more memories than I did last time.

Solution: unlock them.

Solution: now.

Solution: tonight.

Solution: remember.

Solution: remember or hate yourself.

Solution: remember or live in ignorance.

Solution: remember or be unable to complete the mission.

Solution: remember or lose her.

Solution: remember or lose the future.

Solution: remember or fail.

Solution: demand to know from Thomas.

The clock is ticking. Hopefully tomorrow. Hopefully soon. I can ask him. Apologise for hating him and ask him what he knows. Since, he holds all the answers. I wonder if he will remember me. Was I just a nuisance to him back then? Were we nothing more than casualties in this great battle? Because, unlike some, I would die for the truth. I must no what happened. I have to remember. There is no future with no past.

It can't end like this.

When the sound has passed, I leave the closet. My bare feet make the floors creak. There are more boys in the main room than there was any other night. Slowly, the grey bodies have been compiling into one centre, waiting out their murders.

I walk around, until I spot the one glimpse of fading turquoise. Zart is near the middle of the room, crouching over next to Chuck. The child sits still, crying on the ground quietly. People have already shuffled far away from the sound. It's a hole in their mass. Like a target in the centre of a circle. The sound doesn't help.

"You'll be fine Chuck," Zart is talking to the boy. I find myself sitting down in the center with them. If either of them notices, I don't notice that they notice. I'm still really foggy.

Now, cutting my neck open was obviously not my best idea, but I'm desperate. There is coming to be no other option. The longer we go on, the more dangerous this becomes. Days ticking and ticking and ticking and gone. There are patterns. There is a solution. Tomorrow. It is the last day then. I know it. We've got no other option.

"They're going to come again," he whispers. "I don't know what to do."

"I'll let them kill me before they get you," Zart says. "Besides, they only take one a night."

I don't know if I'm expecting him to apologise again. Am I supposed to forgive him? I don't know if I do or don't. Exhaustion weighs down my body, rotting my corpse. It has been a very long day, and the sun isn't rising until tomorrow. Maybe I'll get to see her again. I would recognise her if Zart hadn't hurt me. It was him who let them cut the flesh. He can't pretend his hands are clean of blood.

Chuck is still sobbing. I lay a hand on his shoulder because I know that is what you are supposed to do. Not because I understand what it means. I still feel so foggy all the time. The longer these days go on, the more and more I realise I have less and less hope of recovering.

"If you make it through tonight, there will be no others." I tell him.

Chuck blinks, before actually turning his attention towards me. "What are you talking about?"

I wait for Zart to call me off, but he doesn't. I wait for anything. It's not something I can just tell Chuck since he will not believe me. Most days, I wouldn't believe me either. However, it is what it is, and the truth is now. I'm talking about salvation. No promises, but I know Thomas will know, and he shall deliver. It was designed this way. Or something. I really don't remember. Am I making sense? Thanks, Zart.

The Grievers are here. Chuck whimpers. Although I can barely hear them since they are just outside. Circling about. I can't remember who designed them. Was it for the sole purpose of terrifying us? This is why I must know what happened. At one point, this enraged me. Now though, I have nothing to enflame. Maybe it is hate that drives me. Not the need for truth. In order for there to be reconciliation, we must acknowledge all the ways we have been broken.

The window smashes open, and the wind blows in. No hand breaks through. The room is invaded by the grinding of metal against metal. It cranks and cracks and rattles, and it is so close. Chuck is going red. He has buried his face in his pillow. Zart holds him by the shoulders tightly. All the boys near the wall have already flown away, diving past us into the far corners of the room.

Zart looks up at me, frozen in place. Is he asking for my help?

The door breaks open too. It flies off its hinges, and I hear people gasping. Still, no one moves. In fact, no one breathes. I stand still, next to Zart. Waiting. It's going to come. It is coming. There is no hope for us. One of us three will have to die. The other bodies have slithered out of the room.

I rip Chuck out of Zart's hands, pulling him away from the boy. Moving him to the other side of the room. I can never forgive Zart of what he did to me. I don't imagine he can forgive himself either. He doesn't move. If anything, he straightens up. For a second, he makes eye contact with me. His eyes are soft and wet. They call to me.

I frown, staring back.

The Griever reaches through the window, grabs him, and rips him off into the night.

Chuck continues to sob into my chest. He holds onto me, pulling me onto the ground. I can do nothing but try to hold the boy as he claws for air. Everyone else in here is struggling to breathe. No one can move. No one can think. No one can feel.

I have to remember.


	42. I could be kissing

Leo 41

It's silent at the breakfast table, and not because we are too busy eating. There are only two apples to share between the five of us. Not that it matters; no one is eating them. Dawn has already given me her share, perhaps because I'm pale but more likely because the food reminds her of Joe and Joe is dead.

I didn't lose anyone at yet. Which I guess makes me lucky. Michelle lost three, and Ella one, and I've got no one gone. There experiences are inherently alien. It isn't that I want to know what it is like to lose someone, but I don't know how to lift my hand in comfort. I can't even comfort Teresa, who has lost Thomas temporarily to a Griever sting. She barely eats any of her food.

"Thomas is doing better?" She asks. Dawn attempts to lift her head and make eye contact with the girl, but the bags under her eyes keep her chin firmly planted to the table. After they took Joe, she was up all night with me.

Michelle only stiffens. Her finger nails dig into the flesh of the apple held idly in her hand. Why did Teresa have to bring Thomas up?

"He's a lot better," I tell them. "Should be up any minute."

Michelle slams herself up, pulling away from the table and walking away. Her red hair swings about her, swallowing her whole. No one moves or chases after the angry girl. She just needs to blow off steam anyway. Fighting this anger is only going to further her pain. Honestly, I don't know what's helping it.

Teresa looks down in her lap. She doesn't apologies, but she techincically shouldn't anyway. Michelle imagines Thomas to be evil, although after this week I can't blame her for seeking anywhere to lay blame that isn't herself.

"Just excuse her," Dawn remarks. "She forgets there is a whole universe outside of her."

Teresa nods, continuing to stare down at the wooden table. "I wasn't trying to set her off."

"Believe me, you don't need to try," Dawn attempts to reassure her, offering a week smile. Then, she glances from the food down beneath me to my mouth. "Eat."

I nod, picking up a carefully sliced apple quarter. My teeth bite down. Its juice runs down my lips, unbelievably sour. I could starve to death, I'm always going to hate these damn things. While I chew, I look back up at them. Swallowing quickly, I continue the conversation.

"Thomas is looking a lot better though. I was just in there this morning." I try to affirm Teresa's confidence, since she needs it. "Better than most of us anyway. Safe in there too."

"He'll wake up tomorrow," Ella, in her weird prophetic ways, chimes in.

Dawn stares at her blankly, before rolling her eyes. "Don't listen to her. She's sick."

"I'm sick of your shit." Ella snarls, before getting up from the table as well. She storms away, in a fashion I've never seen her do before. There's not just blankness in her walk. But feeling. Intensity. I doubt she is mad at Dawn, but there is something that enrages her.

"What's shit?" Dawn asks, peering around. "You know what she's talking about?"

I shake my head, glancing over to Teresa. She is suddenly pale, paler than her already ghostly skin. No wonder though, Ella can be a bit scary.

"She's been off it lately." I tell them. "These last few weeks. It's been different."

"She's always been jacked," Dawn clarifies for Teresa. "Just, never so chatty."

Teresa nods, looking down at her lap. Her black hair falls in her face, covering up her eyes. She really is pretty, even if she tries to hide it.

"Here," I hand her a hair tie off my wrist. "It'll be easier to get about your day if you can tie it back. We all do it."

"Well, the both of us do," Dawn gestures between herself and me. "Michelle's hair is like, her identity." Dawn pauses, turning back to me. "You think she'll come back to sit with us? Or should we be worried she's going to fight Doug?"

"Why would she fight Doug?" I ask.

Dawn shrugs. "Dave," she pauses when she says the name. As she remembers. "He used to say they were at each other's throats everyday. I imagine its only worse with the rest of the competent Builders gone."

I forgot she knew Dave too. I never shared more than a few words with him. "They can't be building stuff still. We've run out of supplies. Alby wants them to tear down the Bricknick shed for more wood. They might even start on the Animal pens next."

We only have two chickens left. At this point, they have to kill them, or they'll starve to death too. I'm not really all that into murder, but it seems better than the alternative, which is torturing the chickens.

"I'll keep an eye on her anyway." Dawn remarks.

It's a good idea, but I'm barely paying attention. They are tearing down really everything at this point. Soon enough, there will be nothing. I don't really have time to worry about Michelle. At this point, if she is going to get herself killed, I don't have the time to save her. I've got a lot more riding on my shoulders than her well-being.

I've got everyone else's too. And, honestly, it doesn't terrify me. Sure, it's a bit overwhelming, but I'll live.

"Is Minho back yet?" I ask.

Dawn pauses, before nodding. "Yeah. He is. He was here yesterday."

"Only for four hours," I note. He came in, slept, and left immediately after. I haven't seen him yet since.

"He got back in the middle of the night." She tells me. "Went to sleep."

I take it she hasn't talked to him yet, so I drop it. There really isn't anything I can do to help them. Both of them I think are just freaking out, but Minho especially. There is a life riding on his shoulders every night, and he's operating on three hours of sleep and then running for twelve hours straight. I don't know that I can blame him for his frustration.

"Tell him before he leaves I need to give him an update on the Runners."

Teresa gives me a weird look, so I elaborate. "A bunch of guys have come in with severe dehydration and exhaustion. One has a twisted ankle."

"If they are that shucking exhausted, they won't be able to solve the Maze anyway." Dawn jumps in. "He's too stressed out. He's going to break himself."

At this, she gets up off the table. "Just so you both know, I'm not storming off angry. I just need to talk to Minho. I don't know what else to do to help him."

"It could be worse," Teresa offers. "He could've jumped in front of a Griever."

Dawn pauses, before staring at Teresa. Her baby hairs fall in her face, and she straightens her body. Dawn is pretty tall, and the scowl she wears can be pretty intimidating. "Thank you, Teresa. It definitely helps make my situation better, to know that you are currently in a lot more suffering than I am. Truly, you have changed my life."

Now, she actually storms off, heading into the Homestead.

I look at Teresa, who just sighs. "I wasn't trying to be rude. I was trying to make her put it in perspective."

I know she was coming from a nice place, but she's new. It's got to be hard for her to figure out what everyone wants to hear and needs to hear.

"It wasn't your fault," I tell her. Neither her nor Dawn are right. It's just the way it is. "Just, be careful. You don't know the others too well yet."

Teresa leans forward. "I just wish it didn't take so long to get to know someone."

That's true. I've been here a month and a half, and I barely know anyone. If I saw myself in a mirror, I wouldn't recognize my face.

"Can we talk?" I spin around, to see Newt stand behind me, staring. "Only for a minute. I know you are busy."

I nod, give Teresa a quick smile. She says nothing, so I follow Newt inside the Homestead. The walk is short, and he stands a few steps ahead of me. I wait for him to speak, but nothing comes out of his mouth.

The door swings shut behind us. Newt ignores the few boys in the foyer, heading up the stares. I offer Clint an uneasy smile before I follow after Newt.

He walks all the way up to his room and when I enter, he shuts the door behind us. I feel weird being in here. The walls feel tight, since the floor is covered with blankets and pillows. The only clean space is his bed. I don't like this, Like, it's as if I'm violating his space. Last time I was here, I was violating it anyway. I try to forget about the night I kissed him. That feels so long ago. It was before most of this klunk anyway. Before the dying.

"I need you to tell me what to do," he begins, turning to face me. His blonde hair hangs above his eyes. "Because everyone is losing it and I don't know what to do."

"I'm sorry?" I ask, but don't ask. I really don't want to know. The truth makes hope feel impossible.

"Because Minho is losing it. He's either in the Maze or asleep. I don't know if he is even eating anymore. And Alby's been acting crazy since the Changing, and I don't know what to do anymore."

I don't know where to go. He grabs hold of me, pulling me into a hug. I try to hug him back. Try to wrap my thin arms around his tense torso. At least, I try to remember what we were like before all of this. We laughed on the stairwells. We drank with everyone else. We had fun. I remember loving when it wasn't this hard. With this pressure, I feel like shattering.

"I don't know how you're holding together," he tells me, his voice muffled by the sleeve on my arm. "Since I'm bloody not. It hasn't been this bad for so long. I don't know what to shucking do anymore, Lee. I need you. Screw all this klunk. Can't we be friends?"

I nod. Pulling back so I can look into his eyes. He tries to make eye contact with me, but his eyes keep fluttering down. "I need you too."

"Because I don't know how to fix this," he continues. "Everyone is panicking."

"So, remain calm." I instruct him. If I take this medically, it's a lot easier to handle. "Breathe in and out. One breath by one."

He nods carefully. "I just don't know what to do."

Neither do I. Since I don't have a satisfactory answer, I place my hands on his cheeks. It's delicate, and careful, and he exhales, before leaning into me.

"We'll live." I tell him.

His forehead is resting against mine. Our lips are dangerously close. For a second, I think he might kiss me.

"Newt," Chuck bursts through the door, and both Newt and I go flying backwards. Chuck doesn't seem to notice though. "Alby needs to talk to you. It's about Minho."

Newt looks into my eyes. His are glossy too, and soft. They crease in the corners. "I'll be back Lee. Don't go anywhere."

He leaves the room, and I don't move.


	43. I could be pregnant

Dawn 42

I don't give myself time to do anything except walk into Minho's room. I know he isn't sleeping. Or, if he is, I guess I will wait for him to wake up. I don't really know what I want to say to him, except that I want to scream. I know I should apologise, but I can't. If I do, I will have to explain myself. He deserves better than an explanation.

When I walk in the room, I can tell he is awake. The blankets are pulled up all around him, and he is lying on his front. Every night we sleep together, he curls into me. Lying on his back, I find myself fitting in the crook of his arm. He can't sleep on his front, as far as I know of.

When the door shuts behind me, he turns around to face me.

"You're back?" his voice is groggy, his eyes barely open. He tries to snap himself to attention but fails. The exhaustion wears him down.

I don't tell him anything. I can't tell him I'm pregnant. So, I sit in silence, waiting for him to continue.

He sits straight up, waiting for me to step closer. His skin is a sickly yellow, and he has sweat through his clothes, and I hate myself for doing this to him.

"Can you talk to me?" He is trying to be here, but he isn't present. His eyes are dull. I imagine though he pretends to be awake his mind is gone. "Are you safe?"

I can't come closer to him. Unfortunately, I mustn't let him in closer again. Not until I can figure out what to do. There is no solution here.

"I can't tell you," I tell him.

"Why not?" He asks back, as he shakes his head. For a second, his eyes open more than a crack. "I just want to help you."

I shake my head back and forth. I can't meet him. Not here, and not like this.

"Dee, lovely, please," he never talks like this when he is awake. It's not fair to do this when he is tired. "Just talk to me."

"I can't when you're that sick," I try to make my voice sound harsh. "Have you eaten this shucking month? You looked like you crawled out of a grave."

"I'm too busy to sleep," he mumbles.

I cross my arms over my chest, as I try to pretend to be mad. "You're too busy for sleep, and you are too busy for me."

"What are you talking about?" He counters, finally managing to pull himself out of the bed. He steps closer to me. I watch his hands itch at his sides, wanting to reach closer. They don't, and I can attribute that to my comment about Ben. Maybe that was unfair, but at the same time, it worked.

I can't talk to you, Minho. I need you here, for me, because I am selfish. I want you to hold me, and I want to pour myself into you. But, Minho, you are broken, and I am not going to shatter you.

"I'm not too busy," he tries to pull me against him. "I'm here and I'm listening."

"That doesn't mean you are healthy." I tell him, pulling myself backwards. It takes all my strength to separate myself from him. He is here, and he is waiting, but he does not know the destruction I bring.

He doesn't answer, instead favouring the silence. I guess there is nothing for him to say. He is quick wit and laughter and work, but he is not comforting, and he is not reassuring, and I know he will need help more than I do if I tell him. I need him to give up on me.

"Nothing is helping!" I shout. I can feel the walls shaking. I hate this. "We are stuck here, and we can't get out."

"Dawn," he offers, stepping closer to me.

I push his hands back, before pulling my hands over my face. My feet collapse beneath me, and I'm on the ground, sobbing. Minho is just above me, kneeling. He won't touch me.

"We're never getting out of here," I cry.

"Don't you think I know that?" it hisses out his teeth, as he disappoints himself. "Don't you think I have given up too? There isn't anything out there, Dawn."

I don't know what to tell him. At this point, I can barely sleep. I look up at him, ignoring the river on my face. "And you are too busy searching to be back here. You aren't here when I need you, and I don't expect you to be. There are places you need to be, and here isn't one of them. So, you need to go."

"What?" his face drops, pulling me in. Ignoring his brain and choosing to follow the instinct in him. I feel it too since it pulls me right towards his arms. "I'm not leaving you."

I pull back from him, wiping the tears off my face. This is so embarrassing. I don't apologise though. I deserve this. I am the one leaving him. Not because I want to, but because he needs me to. I would do anything for him, even if it means losing him. And it does, in this case.

"You need to go," I'm firmer now, and I mean it. "We can't be together anymore."

"Dawn-"

"I mean it," my voice is solid, and its firm. "You're too busy for me, so we are done. I needed you when Dave died, and I needed you when Joe died, and you haven't been there, and I don't hate you for that. I want you to go and save the bloody day. You can't be worrying about me."

"I want to worry," His face is firm, but I can see him squeezing trying to keep him all together. "I want to love you, shuck the consequences. I am not leaving you."

Why must he may this so hard? Brown eyes in mine, swallowing me whole. They remind me of when I first started loving him. His eyes absorb and absorb, until there is nothing left of me that is not part of him. I guess, in a way, part of me is part of him now. I have to remind myself that's why I'm doing this. If I get taken tonight, I don't want him to mourn us.

"I'm not going to argue, because then I will start yelling."

"Then don't argue," Minho tries to grab me again, but I won't let him. "I just, I can't lose you now. I need you still."

"I don't want you," I beg, it erupts out my mouth in a sob.

He freezes, staring up at me. He shakes his head is disbelief. He still doesn't cry though, even if one tear leeks from his eye. "I don't understand. How did this happen? I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well good shucking job!" I almost laugh, but I snort instead, as the tears and snot blend together on my face. "You definitely didn't do that when you left the first time for a day, or the next time, or when you were almost killed by a Griever."

"You shucking tried to run in the Maze after me when I got trapped with Alby. You would have died, Dawn." He shakes his head, his voice screeching against mine like hinges on an old door. "I love you, but I don't think you understand how serious that is."

"That's not what we are talking about," I say it carefully. Because it's not.

"Yes, it is." He tells me. "You think I'm not here for you because I'm out there."

"I want you out there," I spit back. "I want you to leave me."

He closes his eyes and exhales. The room takes the pause with him. Outside, I can hear boys arguing. I can hear calm. There is a calm green Glade outside of the door. This room is not the end all be all of existence. At the end of the day, everything will be okay.

"I am out there for you," he tells me, carefully. "Every day I run out there, I think about you. I do it for you too, Dawn. I'm trying to keep you safe, so I am out there, but I am here for you now, and I love you."

I know he does. We are devils playing in a mirror. He loves me, and he doesn't want me hurt. I love him, and I am taking the lesser path of the evils. I hurt him now or later. I die today or tomorrow. Soon enough, we will lose everything. Dying to save me won't save this.

I can't blame him for trying though, because I could try for him.

"I don't want you to think about me," I tell him. "We're done.

"Is that all then?" Minho asks, biting his lip. His voice shakes, and he can't mean my eyes anymore. "Is this it?"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," I tell him, and I mean it. His face falters, but I ignore it. "Because we are depending on you. Kids like Chuck are waiting for you to tell them what to do, and you can't right now. You can't because of me."

He doesn't answer. His face is blank, and I don't know if he is expecting me to continue. So I do, since I have a lot more to say.

"You aren't here, because you need to be out there," I pause, taking him in. "I needed you here, but I can't let you stay. So much klunk has happened."

Like, I'm pregnant. And I am sick, and I am suffering, and he is gone. And he needs to be gone, and I keep saying it because I'm trying to convince myself, but it's not working. So I will say it again and again. Leave him so that he doesn't hurt.

"I don't want to do this Minho." I begin, shaking my head back and forth.

"Then why are you?" He pleads. "I just want to know what is wrong. I want to help you."

"You can't!" I shout, bursting to my feet. He follows me up, and I knock him away.

"Get out!" I shout.

"I'm not leaving you," he grabs my arm.

I knock him backwards. His feet slip beneath him and he hits the ground.

"Get out!" I screech. "Never come back!"

He doesn't say anything. Looking around, his breath is heavy. He stands up, staring at me. Both of us are crying. I hope he reaches for me. I hope he tells me its okay. I hope he helps me.

Instead, he turns around and walks out of the door. I don't blame him. He only does what he thinks will make me happy after all. I've done this to both of us.

I feel my knees give way. They curl underneath me, as I stumble backwards. Landing on the bedframe and sliding to the ground. Every inch of me seems to be melting away. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't care what it takes. I need him.

Which is why I pull myself onto my feet. They stumble beneath me, but I make my way over to the door. At the same time, Newt pulls it open, with Chuck only a few paces behind him.

I try to push past Newt, but he grabs me and moves me back into the room. The door slams behind him.

"Let me go," I sob, ripping out of his grip.

He wrestles with my arms until he is holding me as I try to leap over his shoulder and wrestle him to the ground. I need to apologise before Minho leaves. I'm not going to lose him too, since it could be him tonight. I need to tell him.

"Calm down for shuck's sake." He wrestles with me, throwing me off him. I stumble back on my feet but catch myself. "You're bloody shucked Dee."

"I need to get him," I begin. "I need to talk to him. It can't just end like that."

His face seems to go white. He runs a hand through his hair, limping towards me. "What're you off about?"

"I'm pregnant," I tell him.

The room stills. Klunk. I wasn't planning on telling Newt. I didn't want anyone to know. That was an accident. Sure, I told Joe, but he doesn't talk. He certainly isn't Minho's best friend either.

Newt sits down on the bed, as if he can't stand up on his own. The blood is draining out of his face, falling into his stomach.

"How..." Newt pauses to breath, moving a finger up to his lip. "I don't..."

He doesn't continue, eventually getting up and standing. Moving in a circle, he paces and paces around me. It's so quiet now. This turn of events is jarring. I didn't want him to know. If anything, I should've told Leo first.

"You're sure?" Newt eventually manages, swallowing.

I nod up and down. He sits back down on the bed, before burying his head in his hands. For a second, I think he might rip out a scream. He doesn't though.

"Don't tell Minho," he offers. "Don't."

"When do I tell him then?" I ask. "What if we die tonight?"

"Tell him when we are safe." Newt offers, looking back up at me. "It's only going to shuck with his head. Trust me."

"How would you know?" I demand, my voice rough and hoarse. "You still haven't told Leo you love her."

Newt doesn't answer me. Instead, he just buries his head in his hands.

I turn around, walking out the door.


	44. I could be choking

Michelle 43

It's late again, and I'm sitting outside on the ground. Thomas is silent tonight. Every night, I've heard him groaning at least once or twice. Now there is no sound. I can't be mad anymore, though I know I still hate him for what happened to Gally. Maybe I hate him so I don't have to hate myself. After all, it's not just his fault Gally left. Even before he was here, Gally was crazy.

I'm sitting on the back porch, even though it is getting later. I just can't be in there with those boys anymore. Everywhere seems to remind me of Gally and Dave.

I never thought I would say I miss the sun, but I do. Hot days out in the Glade were more fun then I care to admit. At least, they were the closest thing to fun that happens here. Of course, there isn't really a lot of things that aren't awful. I'll miss building.

Now, we have nothing left to board up the walls at night. The fences are all destroyed, as well as all the sheds. Even the Bloodhouse is being ripped apart, inch by inch. Soon, there will be nothing left here. Eventually, we are going to have to try and cram ourselves all in the Slammer. It'll be easier with every passing night.

I move over to the structure, peeking inside. Thomas lies on the floor. He is shaking. They put him in here maybe ten minutes ago. He looks cold. I'm surprised they don't have a Med-jack stay with him all night. Even that Teresa chick, who is more annoying than anything, could help him out in here.

There is a crash behind me. My body lags, but I force myself to spin around. Jackson bursts out the door to the back of the Homestead with a few boys in tow. He looks at me and nearly grins at my sight. "Hey, Michelle."

His voice is way too happy for Jackson. Last time I saw him smile, he was waving a knife in my face. I may have forgiven Doug, but I am not too keen on letting Jackson slide.

He looks sick, but we all do too. As far as I can tell, half the Glade went without dinner. Today, we had the luxury of lunch. Maybe Jackson wasn't allowed to eat since he almost started the riot yesterday. I wouldn't put that ban past Alby.

The palling boy moves behind me, his shoulder inches from my head, as he peers into the shed behind my head. "He's sleeping in there alright."

I don't recognize most of the boys with him. In total there are five, one of whom is Dan. I guess the IQ of the group is relatively low then.

"Do you know where Leo might be?" He asks, turning around to face me.

I don't answer him, keeping my feet still and steady. Honestly, there are only a few places she normally is, and if she isn't there then she doesn't want to be found. Besides, it's not like I trust Jackson. I know what he is capable of, and if he wants to find her (for whatever reason), he isn't getting her.

Jackson grabs my shoulders, slamming me into the concrete wall behind me. "Where is she?"

My shoulders ache. "Bite me."

He grabs me, throwing me to the ground. I slide across the dirt, my face landing in the muck. No one else moves. I guess he is here for a fight.

I pull myself up off the ground. He shakes the door to the Slammer, before ramming his fist against the side of the wall. His hand bleeds where the concrete rips open his skin. He quickly turns to face me, shaking his bloody fingers in my direction.

"Grab her," he instructs.

The boys look amongst themselves. They nudge Dan forward. He looks around, before running at me.

Klunk.

I run. Spinning around, I head for the Kitchen. I don't exactly know what I'm planning to do. The Kitchen won't lock, as far as I can tell the Slammer is the only place with a key in the whole place. I quickly burst through the door, with Dan trailing a dozen feet behind me.

It's not like the Bloodhouse in here, where all the knives are on the counter. I pick up the rolling pin, turning around just as Dan enters, and hit him in the side of the face with it. He falls to the ground, his head slamming against the wooden flooring. The next boy who steps in stumbles on his body. The ginger kid looks down at the blood oozing from Dan's head and runs out the door.

Cowards.

Dan groans. I open the first drawer, finding clingwrap and tin foil, and the next and find wooden spoons and the like, and the next, and the next, and then I find a knife. Shucking finally.

I pick up Dan off the ground, who is too groggy to fight back. Holding him with one arm, I let the weight of his body rest on me. A knife to his neck, I know he can't get away. I have a hostage. They don't know that I won't kill him. I couldn't, not after Dave. Not after everything. It would be impossible for Jackson to know that though, so Dan will be a good bargaining tool for now.

Once I'm out the door, I drop Dan to the ground. The five boys have doubled in number since I last saw them. I can hear them shouting from here. A hostage is no use since they seem to be brawling. With the knife still in my hand, I find myself jogging over.

"Where is the key?" Since his voice carries, I can hear Jackson from halfway across the field.

Thankfully, no one answers the shank. At least, not that I can hear from this far away. I'm out of breath, but I've finally got back to them. I'd rather maintain a safe distance then hear the threats between Jackson and Alby.

Jackson is holding Alby by the collar of his shirt, but the boy seems entirely unfazed. Newt is trying to grapple Jackson but is being held back by another boy. A crowd is starting to gather round.

"I told you, Leo keeps the key," Alby enunciates clearly.

Newt's bum leg seems to fire, as he pushes forward. Fry won't let him go through, so he continues to struggle. Winston comes out too, and he pushes through the crowd towards me. Eyes begin to turn towards the knife in my hand.

So much for stealth.

"Where did you get the knife?" Winston hisses under his breath.

"Search the place," Jackson demands, sparking a few of them to break off and move inside. It's impossible to tell who's with him and who is with Alby.

Winston can't think I'm with Jackson, right?

"I need to help Alby," he clarifies, whispering to me under his breath. "Where are the knives?"

"In the Kitchen."

Winston nods, "thanks."

He heads off, gesturing behind him for a few boys to follow. Doug is one of them, but he pauses when he sees me. His dark hair hangs over his eyes, shading them. The dim light only helps to obscure him from me.

"Give me your knife," he tells me with a low voice.

I shake my head, moving it behind my back so it's not so easily visible.

"Now," he offers. "I've got a plan, and no one will get hurt."

When I look in his eyes I can tell he is being honest. I guess I'm good at seeing the truth. Much better than most anyway. Doug is helping me for Adam's sake, just like I am trying to make peace for Dave.

I pass the knife off to Doug's fingers. He reaches around me, ripping his free hand into my hair. With his other hand, he presses the knife into the skin against my neck.

"Nobody move," he orders, holding the blade carefully against my neck. "Everyone stop."

Come shucking on. I don't move since I can feel how cold the metal is against my neck. It's sharp. I'm not afraid of a little blood, but any move and my jugular will be sliced open.

Jackson freezes, turning to stare. A smile creeps up on his face when he sees the position I'm in.

"You shucking klunk-head," I mutter, trying to hold myself as still as possible. "Let. Me. Go."

"If no one brings out Leo," Doug ignores me, looking from Newt to Alby. "I'll cut her throat."

Jackson drops Alby. The boy stumbles backwards, and Newt darts over and grabs the dizzy leader. Jackson continues forward, and no one stops him.

"Give her to me," he smiles.

"I have this," Doug tells him, shrugging. The blade scratches against my throat. Am I bleeding? I wish I could see Doug right now, but unfortunately, he is on my blind side.

"Let her go!" Teresa is on the stairs, staring down at us. No one pays her any mind but me.

I'm glad she doesn't hate me entirely. I don't know exactly how long she has been here. Maybe she's been watching this whole time. It seems likely since even if I was being held at knifepoint she wouldn't normally give me the time of day.

"You couldn't stab her last time," Jackson laughs, stepping closer to Doug. "Nothing has changed. Give her to me."

Doug lets go of me, tossing me into Jackson's hands. Jackson turns me around, gripping me so that my back is pressed against his. His cheek rests on the side of my head. He wraps his fingers around my neck, tightly. His fingers press into the sides, and I can feel my breath hitching as it struggles out my throat. I try to squirm, but Jackson is much bigger than I am, and much stronger.

"And the knife." Jackson holds out his hand for it.

Doug slices his hand forward, stabbing Jackson. He lets go of me, surging forward. I can hear boys erupting into screaming. I turn around, backing away from Jackson. Doug reaches forward, ripping the knife out of Jackson's neck. The blood spurts out in bursts, spraying across my face. Doug grabs me, pulling me back against him. We stumble backwards until we fall on the ground, his arms still wrapped around me.

Jackson's body collides with the earth, shaking. He continues to choke, a horrid rasping spilling out his throat. I don't want to watch this, but I can't look away. No one touches him, even though there are people all around. I expect Leo to come running out, but she doesn't. Winston has even come back, with his pack of armed boys, but they do nothing too.

Then, Jackson stops moving.

I look up, staring at the crowd

"You..." Newt is stumbling on his words, but he isn't looking at me. "You..."

Doug is still holding on to me as tightly as possible. Maybe he is hiding too. I can feel our hearts racing. My arms are wrapped around his, pulling him further into me. I don't know how to breathe.

Alby stumbles forward, staring around at the boys that surround us. "We ain't doin' this again."

He stumbles into the Homestead, slamming the door behind him.

"What just happened?" Newt asks, stepping forward. His shoes land in the blood. "What is going on?"  
"He was going to kill her," Doug says, his breath coming out raspy and short. "It would've been her first, then you, until he got to Thomas."

"Why did you have her at knifepoint?" Newt asks, running his hands through his hair.

"He tried to stab her before, and I stopped him," Doug continues. I can't find the words that are caught in my throat. "I wouldn't let him hurt her, and he knew that. I knew he'd want to do it himself. I was right."

It escapes Newt that Doug's goal was to kill Jackson, but I hear it. I imagine Teresa does too, because she leaves, walking into the Homestead.

"Where's Leo?" I finally manage. "She's safe?"

Newt nods, "Alby thought this would happen, so he hid her. I never went back to the room to talk to her."

He says this to himself, not to me. That's when I notice he is shaking. One of the other Keepers grabs him and helps bring him inside. Eventually, all the boys, even the ones who chased me, get brought inside. Winston is the last to enter the door, and his eyes linger on me for a few seconds before he closes the door behind him.

Doug and I continue to sit on the ground until everyone is gone.

When the door slams shut, neither of us move for a few seconds. He gets up first, before helping me to my feet. He pulls me into a hug, wrapping his hands in my hair. I hold him too.


	45. I could be floating

Ella 44

I climb down into the basement, where we worked on the Maps. The weapons that used to be in here are all gone. Newt had them moved yesterday, along with the Maps. Hid them even further back then this room. In the storage closet. My hand grasps the handle.

The door creaks open, the small space slowly filling with light. Leo leans against the wall, curled up in a ball so her face is hidden beneath her brown hair. Boxes lean around her haphazardly. I kneel down, touching her knee and rubbing it back and forth.

"We need the key," I whisper, my fingers tickling at her wrist.

Her head burst up suddenly, smashing against a box. Her hands shake about, trying to catch them. They collapse away from her, falling into the wall. Looking me up and down, she sighs in relief. "I thought you were Jackson."

"He's dead." I tell her, as if I expect her not to know. Someone has probably told her by now. Jackson's death was one of the only things I picked up on last night, from where I watched in the window. At one point, Teresa was with me, but then she was gone. I'm just happy she left.

"I know," she groans, sitting up. "So is Dan, right? The Grievers took him last night."

That wasn't something I picked up on. I woke up, and Chuck was with me, and he wanted to know where Leo was. Of course, I knew, I saw them move her. Thankfully I payed attention to something. Chuck made me come get her.

"Alby talked to me this morning," she tells me. "They couldn't come get me until it was safe to let me out. It could happen again tonight after dark, you know."

I shake my head. It couldn't happen again. Today is the last day. I thought so, but I didn't know if I'd be right. Until Chuck found me. "They won't. I need the key."

She passes it off to me. "How are you so sure?"

"Thomas is awake," I tells her. "They are going to call a Gathering."

When Leo hears this, she practically jumps out of her skin. A few boxes knock over when she stands, but she simply steps over them and heads out the door. Without waiting for me.

I take the key and walk it up the stairs. The hallways are silent, and everyone is gone. Perhaps they are combing the Maze one last time. They should've known all along though. We had the code. We knew the location. Now, we must fight. A short battle, but a battle.

Then, She lies behind these walls. It can't be more than a week. Soon, I will have violets blossoming from my skin.

We used to plant those in the Garden, before Zart died. In fact, we used to do a lot.

I walk past Chuck, who bounces on the balls of his feet as he waits for me. Just a few feet outside the concrete room, itching to get inside. "So, you have it?"

I shake the keys in his face, and he smiles. Thomas is still in the Slammer. Newt is long gone from their conversation, so I am thankful I can speak to Thomas before I let him free.

"What do you remember about me?" I stare him down.

"Let him out," Chuck stands behind me, waiting impatiently. "He says he can get us out of here."

I turn to look at Chuck. My eyes focus on his curly hair/ I remember meeting Chuck long before this. I remember knowing his face, but not his name. It's only barely, and it hurts, but it's there. There was someone else his age. Someone else I knew. "This is more important than any of our lives."

I turn back to Thomas, who freezes. He stares at me carefully, pausing. Perhaps he expects me to speak, but I have no more words.

"I met you a few times, but you didn't like me," he says. "You aren't happy with what I did. What I built."

I know all that. Does he not remember me? Were we barely acquaintances?

"I remember you hated Teresa too," he tells me. "You hated the guy they named you after, I think. You didn't like his paintings. There were books, or something else, but I don't remember. It was foggy."

His paintings?

I hand the keys off to Chuck. He unlocks the door, glancing at me.

"Are you going to have another seizure?" He asks. "Do I need to get Clint?"

I don't want Clint here. He did this to me. I can't be named after a man. That wouldn't make sense. Teresa is named after Mother Teresa, obviously a woman. I don't remember her name, but it had to be something just as feminine. Why am I named after a man?

I don't understand.

What is the solution? What is the solution? There must be one, right? I am not a man. Teresa is named after a woman. What is the solution?

"Ella," Jeff is holding me. We are in the Homestead. He has a scalpel in his hands.

I leap backwards, pressing myself into the wall. He simply stares at me, his face straight and stern. It is frozen in time. I can't hear him breathing.

Then, he looks down at his leg. The scalpel is impaled, deep in his skin. I knocked it out of his hand.

"Klunk," he notices, stumbling. He makes it to the bed, collapsing on to it. Rolling on to his back allows him to sit up and observe the cut. He stares at the injury, looking down at his lap. I watch him move, grabbing his leg and wrapping his belt around it. Carefully pulling the end of the scalpel out of his skin, and applying pressure. I am unable to help.

"I wanted to heal you," he continues to move his fingers. They mesmerize me. "Clint is busy with the Keepers. They're holding a Gathering for Thomas, and I know you know he's awake. You're the one who got Leo. She came and told us. Anyway, since they were busy, I was going to offer to try and remove the chip."

The Swipe? Sometimes I forget I'm floating, and then I find myself here.

"I didn't want to do shuck with it," he tells me, grunting. "Clint thought we could figure out a way to get our memories back. He was wrong, since the chip still attached to your head. If anything, it erased all the memories you had formed since you got here, in only one half of your brain. You're one half was fully erased, and was able to form new memories. The other remembered the old, and the new. When we reattached it, you lost both, so all you have are half your new memories and the memory of having memories, so that was shucked up.

"I didn't know it would bother you that much. I didn't know what you would try. I might be able to fix it, or at least, try to anyway."

I don't answer him. There's nothing to say to him. He still did this to me. I have forgotten so much because of his interference.

"When I'm done stitching myself I can still try," he offers, although it is not committed. "Sorry to unload this on to you, but I would rather ramble than concentrate on this, because man does it shucking hurt. Like, so badly, so you're a good distraction."

I shake my head. I have another plan. Another Solution. If he tries to help, it'll ruin me. It will ruin all of this plan. It's going to work; I can feel it.

"I never wanted to," he looks up at me. "Clint and I, we aren't together anymore. I broke up with him after you hurt yourself. He didn't care properly. Don't get me wrong, it upset him, but it didn't horrify him. Not like it did me. I'm still sorry."

These apologies mean nothing.

I turn around, leaving the room.


	46. I could be Leonardo

Leo 45

"It's hard to explain," Thomas is standing. He still looks sickly, but he holds himself together. I wonder if he notices how much we've changed. Even Newt, who keeps glancing at me across the circle, can barely hold himself together.

"I can't really tell you all of it. It was like hundreds of pictures, flashing past me in a whirlwind. I've forgotten a lot of it now already." Thomas tips on his feet, looking at the empty chairs. He knows Gally is dead, and I don't know how well he knew Zart. They couldn't have been too close since Thomas is so new. "Basically, this is a test. We aren't supposed to solve the Maze, we are supposed to break out. The Creators want the winners, or I guess the survivors, to move on to the next task."

This is only the beginning?

"What are you on about?" Minho asks. He looks exhausted. For all I know, he slept through all of yesterday's commotion, and still has bags under his eyes. The other Keepers had to drag him out of bed this morning to get him in here.

"Let me explain," Thomas shakes his head, looking back and forth. "Something really awful happened. I don't know what, but like, apocalypse bad. The Creators took us from our families and put us in a sort of special school until they could build the Maze. They figured out we had above average intelligence, or something. These aren't even our real names, it's just klunk they made up. Newt, for Issac Newton, Alby for Albert Einsten. And Thomas, Edison."

Newt stiffens. His eyes crease. Alby maintains his hard stare. I find myself tucking my hands into my lap to keep them still.

This isn't my name? What they've been calling me, this whole time? Even that was taken? So, this is all some joke to those guys? They stole us from our families and our identities and send us right in here. To die. So many Gladers have suffered, and now there are half a dozen dead.

I am Leo, after Leonardo Da Vinci. That's what my name means. It's not some stupid thing my parents gave me because they wanted me to be brave like the lion. It has never been about bravery.

Leonardo Da Vinci, Donatello, Michaelangelo, Raphael. Leo, Dawn, Michelle, and Ella.

"These aren't really our names?" Alby asks.

"I doubt we'll ever know them," Thomas adds.

That thought makes my stomach sink.

"So, were just a bunch of orphans stolen by scientists?" Fry-pan adds.

Thomas nods. His spirit weighs down the whole room. It doesn't bother me that this is an experiment. Since I've gotten here, I've always felt as though I was being watched. It bothers me that none of this matters. Everything is for nothing. Once we get out of here, all the pain was unimportant. The stress of Ben and Dawn and Minho is all gone, and was irrelevant to what's about to happen. Michelle's violence will be but a memory of the past. My whole existence hasn't mattered.

Why are we even sitting here? Why are we in charge? It doesn't matter that Clint is the best Med-jack, or that Fry-pan is the best cook. We're all in the same boat.

"It's all to see who survives," Thomas adds. "They are monitoring our brains. Some of ours have been altered."

Altered. "What do you mean?" I demand. "Are you talking about Ella?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know what her deal is. I don't really understand the brain altering."

That's less than comforting. Maybe there is actually something wrong with Ella. She could just be an epileptic, and we would never have known. What was she trying to cut out of her neck then?

"Sounds like klunk," Winston jumps in.

"Why would I lie?" Thomas asks. "Why do you think we are here, if you think I'm such a liar?"

"Just keep going and explain how you learned all this while everyone else who went through the Changing didn't." Alby mutters, looking down at his hands. Whatever he saw messed him up. More than the pain from the Changing did, I reckon. He hasn't been the same since.

Thomas tries to begin, stumbling on the words. He explains everything. He tells us that the Creators sent us up here, and this is only the first test out of more to come. We aren't supposed to beat the Maze. There is no solution; we've got to break out. He and Teresa helped design it, and they are also telepathic, and as he continues to talk and talk my mind seems to contract upon itself. I can only hear three words ringing in my head.

More to come.

"So how do we get out?" Minho asks.

"There is a computer system that we plug the Maze's code into. It's in the Griever hole."

No shucking way. Boys begin to whisper around me.

Alby leaps out of his chair, lurching forward. "Don't be a shucking idiot. We can't fight one of things, let alone waltz right into their shuckin' den. I ain't going. Are you a traitor? You tryna kill us?"

"I tried to give my life to save you," Thomas cuts in. I'm happy he can stand up for himself. My hands are still shaking though, even more now.

"It's part of a plot to gain my trust." Alby argues.

Minho speaks up, leaning in. "Clint, did you actually clear Alby? There's no dumber shuck thing anyone's said. They shucking tore Thomas up when they got Dave. No way that's an act."

"Do I need to show you all my shucking bruises?" Thomas asks.

Thomas hasn't even seen his back. The Grievers tore at his arms, legs and stomach, sure, but his back was practically skinned. The bandages are still on it; I just changed them yesterday. No way Thomas is still working for them.

"We can't go back!" Alby is standing up. He's sobbing though, tears running down his face. "You don't know what it's like."

Newt is moving forward to help steady Alby, who is spinning violently. I move to my feet, ready to jump in. Could I take Alby? Probably not, but I have two vials of sedative in my pack. If Alby acts, I will use it. My hand rests on my pouch.

"Alby..." Newt tries to comfort the boy,

"I burnt the maps," he calls out.

Of course, he did. I relax my hand from the pouch, although I'm still standing. My knees ready to push through. Newt's face turns over to Minho's.

"Glad we hid them," Minho mutters, glaring at Alby.

At least now Minho can think he helped saved the day. Maybe now he and Dawn can figure out this mess. I don't want to hear them screaming anymore.

Alby is slipping though. "There's fire, and death, and the Flare everywhere. We can't go back It's better to get torn to shreds by the Grievers.

"Yeah no, shuck that," Minho turns his attention away. "I'm not with Mr. Sunshine-and-Rainbows. So, Thomas is right, and we are going to get ready to go tonight. If we're dying, we'll die on our terms."

Thomas turns to Alby, and slowly speaks. "It's still the same world in here as it is out there. In here we are hiding, and that's the only difference."

Alby stands, as if he's just woken up. He stares at all the boys that surround him, peering around. I wait for him to speak, but instead he shakes his head and leaves.

The room is silent, as boy peer around at each other. When I catch Fry, he raises an eyebrow.. "You're in this too?"

I nod.

He shakes his head, a low smile on his face. "This is klunk. We're all gone get smacked."

"We've got to try," Minho maintains his resolve.

"What if Dawn dies, huh?" Fry asks. "Not as though you'd care though. You haven't even been here."

Minho leaps out of his chair, and I am on my feet. Newt blocks him back, pulling him away from Fry. Minho still tries to struggle through, so I pull out my needle from the bottle. When Minho sees it, he shrugs himself out of Newt's grip, backing off. He isn't going to fight if he knows it'll get him sedated. I'm glad to have this power.

"Let's not do this," Newt suggests, looking between Minho and Fry. "We'd better concentrate on beating those bloody Grievers before they eat us."

"The Grievers are programmed to kill one person a night," Thomas rings out. His voice is calm and still. He pauses, waiting for people to look over to him. "I sacrifice myself, and then you all make it through."

Everyone starts shouting and arguing. Since Newt is preoccupied with Minho, I move over to Thomas. "Thomas, you should go."

"I'm serious," he won't follow me, and I don't want to grab him.

"I know you are," I smile. "You are a good man, Thomas. That's why you need to go."

Newt comes over and has to physically drag the shank out.

I turn my attention back to the chaos. Winston is up in Minho's face, as the two argue. Fry-pan is in there too. I put myself in the middle, to physically separate them all. Holding the sedative in one hand.

"If there's someone who doesn't have their butt in a chair in three seconds I swear to it I'll shucking sedate every boy in here and drag your clonked out bodies into the Maze for the Grievers to have you."

The boys freeze, turning to stare at me.

"She ain't kidding," Clint offers, moving back to his chair.

Minho grumbles, following suit. Soon everyone is back in their chairs.

"Listen," I say, waiting for Newt to come back in. Everyone in this room is way to opinionated to be in charge. Especially Minho, even though he makes the best decisions. I need to try to get my piece it before klunk rains. "We are dying in here, or out there, at the hands of the Grievers either way. We have two options unless you all plan on killing each other. It's not letting up. It's not changing. Either we fight, or we don't. These are the facts."

Newt comes in from the doorway. How long has he been standing there? He moves into the room, planting his feet next to mine. "She's right."

"We'll just get killed if we go," Winston argues. "We stand no chance."

"They kill one, they're done," I add.

"If not?" Fry continues.

"How long will your food last us?" Minho jumps in. "Last I checked you said we had three full meals left. We have shucking tomorrow."

"It would be better to slit your wrist then go." Fry rolls his eyes.

"Then do it." Newt says. "We don't have enough pills to kill ourselves. Maybe you could climb the Walls, and the fall would suit you better."

It's firm, and the room goes quiet for reasons I don't understand. There's more to this than I get. Something happened. It's not how Nick died, since he fell off a building. Someone else must've though.

Fry glues his lips together. Then he sighs. "I'm in shuck-faces."

No one else seems to argue. Even Winston keeps his mouth shut. I at first think he's going to keep arguing, but he doesn't. It's like a switch flipped.

"My shanks can handle knives," Winston points out. "I don't know if we can take the Grievers, but I don't know what else to do."

Tim never really argues, but he seems to be onboard. Even though he knows his Gladers are weak.

"Now we need to convince the Gladers." Newt points out.

Everyone else nods.

They move out of the room, and I go to follow them. Newt grabs hold of my arm though, holding me back. The door shuts, and its just the two of us.

"I need to talk to you Lee," he begins. "Remember how I said I needed to tell you something?"

I nod. It must be about that death. "Who died?"

Newt's brow furrows. He looks back at the door, as if trying to see through it. See who is listening to our conversation.

"No one," he brushes it off. I want to keep asking, but he doesn't let me continue.

"Then what is it? I ask, reaching for his hands.

He turns back around to face me, his eyes flickering from my face to our hands. "You told me to wait until the morning."

It's this again? Newt pretending he loves me is not something I need right now.

"Wait until tomorrow," I cut him off.

He stares at me, before shaking his head. "No Leo. I need to tell you now."

"No," I tell him. "We will be alive after all of this. Wait until then."

"I don't know that we will Leo!" He argues, pulling me into a hug. "I don't know that we will live or die. Okay, I'm scared. I just need to tell you."

"What?" I ask. It can't get any worse than this. It can't.

He pauses, pulling away from me. He takes a step back, and one more. Then he exhales. "I just wanted you to know..."

Thomas steps in the room, without knocking. It doesn't really matter since Newt and I are standing far apart.

"You coming?" Thomas asks, spinning on his feet.

Newt looks down, before nodding. "Yeah."

Thomas turns around, walking away. He leaves the door slightly ajar.

"I just..." Newt pauses, glancing at the door. "Dawn's pregnant."

"What?" I demand, suddenly freaking out. "She's what?"

"She told me yesterday, when her and Minho had the big fight."

That's why they are fighting? If he leaves her with a baby, I will kill him. I can't believe anyone would do something like that to her.

"Are you shucking kidding me!" My voice is climbing in my throat. Gripping to the walls, ripping them down.

"That's not why he left," Newt holds his hands up in self-defence. "She hasn't told him yet. So when we go into this fight, make sure she doesn't get hurt. Watch for Minho too, and Clint. We can't be having a baby if we aren't prepared."

"How far along is she?" I demand.

He shrugs. "Can't be more than a month, can it?"

I shake my head. How could she be so stupid? Why were they both so reckless?

There is a knock at the door. Newt reaches forward and squeezes my hands. He lingers longer than I expect him too. He stares at my eyes, holding them, until he shakes his head, leaving the room.


	47. A Pause

Dawn Short

Fry and I cook one final meal. The last bit of the meat he was holding out is in the oven, roasting, and we are just finishing up the salad and potatoes. There won't be any food left after this meal, not that we need it.

"I wish I had known this would be the end." Frankie chuckles, shaking his head. "I would've redone the cling-wrap prank."

Fry drops his knife, and for a second, I think he is going to start chasing Frankie around the kitchen. Instead, he lets a laugh rip through his stomach. It fills the room, tearing down the walls. I can't help but smile myself, even though I still haven't been told what that prank was.

"Dave loved that prank," Frankie smiles, or at least tries to. "Even Joe thought it was funny."

"Joe thought everything was funny," Fry corrects, his lips soft.

It's only been three days, but if the fears about tonight are true, we will be mourning a lot more people tomorrow. If I get killed, two people will die. Me and this baby. It's something I haven't really thought about until now.

"If they could see us now, they'd be happy," I say. "Dave wouldn't want anyone to shed a tear at his funeral."

"Joe was so dramatic," Frankie laughs. "He would've wanted us to mourn him for weeks, crying the whole time."

I like that people's memories live on past them. There will always be stories we can share about Joe and Dave, and as long as these stories live so will they. That's why I'm getting out of here. It's for them. If we stay, they will have died just for us to fail.

There is a knock at the door, and Minho comes in. He looks at me, out of the corner of his eyes, and then turns to Fry.

"Can I borrow her?" Minho asks.

Fry turns to me, cocking his head. It's my choice.

"Yeah," I nod, heading out the door.

Minho doesn't walk very far, before turning around and facing me. We are in the middle of the Glade as boys bustle around and get ready. He doesn't seem to care though. The whole Glade could watch us, and he would still look at me like he does now.

"Are we done?" he doesn't seem to want to know the answer. "Is that it?"

I shake my head. It's too late to argue. I can't let either of us die with so many things unsaid. "I don't want to be. There are just things I can't tell you right now. Things that have been happening."

"Is it about Joe and Zart?" He offers.

It's not about them, but its hard for things not to be about their deaths anymore. Joe would have told me what to do, and he was seconds away. I can feel that happening to Minho next.

"No," I tell him. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I didn't know what else to do.

He doesn't seem to hear my words. The word no can do that. It is a shotgun ringing in the dead of night, with everything else a whisper. "I just wasn't there for you. I didn't think you'd need me."

I didn't need him for the reasons he thinks. I'm not lonely, and though I may be in mourning, I can survive without him. This is still not the time to tell him I'm pregnant. When we get out of here, and this is all over, I will. He'll know the truth.

"Everything I said to you was a lie," I admit.

His eyes go wide, as he looks back to me. "What's everything?"

"About you not being here for me," I begin, "about not ever wanting you again. About everything."

He turns away for a second, staring out into the Glade. Waiting for an answer to pop up, as though it will come. Nothing makes sense here.

"Why would you do that?" Minho manages.

"I was trying to avoid hurting you," I begin.

He scoffs, turning to me. His eyes are burning, but mine ache too. They hurt as I think back on every dumb decision I've made. Everything I've done to him burns my heart. "You definitely hurt me."

I wince, closing my eyes. "I've been keeping something secret. To protect you. Something worse than Ben."

"What could possibly be worse than that shank?" I look up at him, seeing him pour into me. Racking his mind, running his hands through his hair. "You let me leave you alone."

"I needed to be alone," I tell him. "I'll explain tomorrow. When you and I are safe.

He shakes his head in agreement, though his mind has wandered off. Not looking at me, he continues to search the Glade. I can't tell if the wind sticks his hair up, or if was his hands. Maybe it was me. "Are we good then?"

"If you want to be," I tell him. "But wait until tomorrow to ask me anything else."

"There's no way I won't want to be good," he affirms, finally looking at me. His deep brown eyes swallow me whole. Why would I make him cry?

He takes my hand, and I let him hold it. Even, for a second, I squeeze back.

"I just don't want to hurt you," I whisper.

"Me?" He grins, a smile nearly spreading across his cheeks. "I've never been hurt before, and I don't know that you could hurt me if you tried."

Michelle short

I enter Gally's bedroom. I don't like it. He should still be able to sleep in here. I steal his belt off the ground, since it has more pockets than mine. Being the Keeper has its benefits. Then, I find his stash. Filling small little containers I stole from the Kitchen, I find myself forgetting about all the pain this liquid has caused. Ben tried to shack me, and that's just the tip of the iceberg.

I don't know why I even want it. Honestly, I've never really drunk it before. Something of his has to be taken and remembered, and the packs aren't ready for us to carry, so I guess this is what I'm bringing with me.

"This is what you're doing with your time?" Winston walks in the door, moving over to the bed. "Drinking, now? You're embarrassing yourself."

I ignore him, continuing with my work. For a second, I consider standing still. Maybe he's like a t-rex, and can only see me if I move. He's got the complexion of one.

"Is this because you shacked him?" Winston pries. "Now I'm glad I didn't shack you."

"I didn't shack you," I correct. Once I'm satisfied, I drip the containers in the punches, and then transfer over a few of the weapons I have. There is a club, and some sort of spear that obviously won't fit. I grab a hammer too, and a knife.

If I had to pick, I'd have to say I prefer blunt weapons. I don't know why. Every time I see blood, I think of Gally hitting Newt in the face before he died, and I think of Dave being sliced and ripped apart, and I think of Jackson bleeding out in front of me.

"Please," he rolls his eyes. "Gally died a week ago and you're already shacking Doug."

I stand in front of him, before turning to stare him in the face. He swallows, turning around and pretending to scrounge for things on the floor behind his bed.

Winston is just mad I didn't shack him. He doesn't believe I'm shacking Doug. He wants me to hurt like I hurt him.

"You miss Gally too," saying it is enough for me to turn out of the room and walk away. Because Winston doesn't mean it either. He's not even a bad guy. At the end of the day, he just wants to sleep with me. I'm not going to blow up in his face for it. I learnt my lesson. Dave is dead, and I can never take back what I said.

Satisfied, I walk out the door.

People are beginning to gather around outside, ready to leave. Across the circle, I spot Doug. He gives me a quick nod. The space we shared last night is gone. I guess he had to make amends before he goes and dies or whatever. He did what was asked of him. I can't blame him for that.

We should be able to go soon.

Ella Short

I don't know why I came here. To the grave. His body isn't even in the ground. I don't know what I was expecting.

Certainly not an apology.

"I miss him too," Chuck sniffs from beside me. "He wanted to promote me to the Garden."

I can't think about that right now. It doesn't matter. She's out there. She's waiting. In a few seconds she'll be right in my grasp. I can hear her now. In fact, I could sing out her name. Maybe it will pop into my head. If not now soon.

"I got you a pack," Chuck drops it down in front of me. "It's got water in there, and Grief serum in case you get stung. You are coming right? He'd want you there."

Maybe he would, but I don't care. I pick up the pack off the ground, moving away. It's bright yellow, for some strange reason. She said something about it to me once, long ago. Soon, it will all come back to me, and I will remember. All those thoughts will seep straight into my brain. Just like it did Thomas's, because like him, I'm different. I don't know how, but even more so than the other girls.

I walk away from Chuck, but he follows. Eventually, he sits down at a table with me. I take a bite of the last meal I will have for a while. I can't remember what the last trial is. It's slipping away from me, for some reason I can't remember. I can't even go to ask Thomas, since he is more than long gone. So, I have to think.

Why was I named after a man?

Raphael. My full name is Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino. Or I guess, the one they gave me for pretend. I hate that my name is a nickname to a fake name. I hate that people call me nicknames to nicknames. It's a bit cruel. Chuck for Charles Darwin. Zart is short for Amadeus Mozart.

Doesn't explain why I'm named after a boy. Unless the chips we implanted in our heads were meant for someone else. Unless we were supposed to have different names. Names for girls.

Unless I was actually named Ellie, not Ella. I thought it was Ella this whole time, but Leo called me Ellie. Or, Eli. Leo is a boy's name, and so is Michael, and so is Don.

I could be named Ellie. Or, I could have the name of someone else, sent somewhere else. Someone who has a boy's name that could be a girl's.

Leo Short

"Do you think you can run?" I ask the boy.

He tests his ankle out on the ground. "Not sure. I hope I can. I'm gonna even if I can't."

I nod carefully, moving around him. I don't like him running, but there isn't anything I can do. If he doesn't, I'm essentially killing him. Although, I might be killing him all the same sending him in there like this.

"Be careful," I order. "Very careful."

He nods, turning to head out the room. We're done now. That was the last of the treatment. I have stuffed my bag full of pain killers and bandages, as well as alcohol for cleaning. I carry some of it in my pouch too. I'm not sure why Clint trust me with half the supply, and he and Clint share the other half. Maybe he's too lazy to carry it.

Or maybe he didn't give any to Jeff. They aren't talking anymore.

I don't know why I'm expecting some sort of finale. I stare at the trees, and the grass, and everything has ever been there. Whatever I am expecting out there can't be great. I don't imagine it can be better than this. So for now, I have to keep moving forward.

I spot everyone in the center that I know. Jeff and Clint, standing at opposite ends. Dawn holds Minho's hand. Ella waits near Teresa and Newt, her body stiff as a board. Michelle sulks off in the very back, alone. Newt is in the center of it all, with Minho by his side. Giving the pep talk that everyone needs to hear.

He catches my eye, and for a second stops his speech. His blonde hair hangs over his head. He rubs his hands together, turning his attention back to the boys. There is nothing else they can really do anyway.

This is it.

This is the end.


	48. I could be Dead

Dawn 46

We are walking. I'm near the middle of the pack, far enough that Minho can do his job but close enough that I can keep an eye on him. I'm not putting him in danger. In my hand, someone gave me a bat. I doubt I could defend myself properly with it though. If it gets tough, I'm going to climb the Wall. I wish that I could've made it to the top. Not that we would've been able to just climb over it like I had hoped. There's no exit.

The Walls are the same as they were the first day. I ran in here too. Funny how I could've found the cliff that day. I can't believe Minho found me. I could lose him tonight too. I want to be with him again. This is the last night.

All thanks to Thomas. He is only a step ahead of me so I grab his shoulder. He snaps out of his daze, almost violently. Like he was having a conversation in his own mind. Maybe he was. Thomas mentioned that he said he's telepathic, although I didn't think it was true.

"You ready, saviour?" I ask, nudging him.

He turns red at the suggestion. "I'm not a saviour. You know I helped design the Maze, right?"

I nod. "Word gets around pretty quickly. We don't have secrets here. Not that it matters. You figured out the way out."

He seems to agree, but also seems to be drifting in and out of this conversation. We're almost there so I can't blame him.

"You've got the easy part," I reassure him. "We're the ones who are trapped out here fighting them. Not that I can't take them, but all you've gotta do is punch in a couple letters, which you are more than capable of doing."

It barely reassures Thomas. I almost give up but offer one last piece of advice. "You've already saved Minho's life, and you made it seem easy. Who's to say you don't do it again in half the time?"

"Thanks Dawn," he tries to smile, but it's faint. Thomas may have a bad reputation, but he's a decent dude. He'd rather be out here fighting alongside us than punching in a code in the den.

Teresa moves up right as I finish talking and pulls Thomas to the front of a crowd. You know, I was starting to like her before she became such a jerk. She had to say that her situation was much worse and all that klunk. She doesn't know what we've lost.

We stop, right before we round the final corner. From here I can hear the clicking. The hairs on my arm raise, and my stomach clenches.

These are the monsters that killed my friends. They can definitely kill me too if I let them. I know we don't think they are going to sting us, but that doesn't mean my body won't be filled with Griever juice at the end of this.

I try not to panic anyway. Is this what Michelle does? Turn here panic into fire? Because I can't really do that.

"How many are there?"

"Fifteen," Minho gulps out, looking back. "One five. There all in a circle too."

"I thought he said fifty," a boy seems to sigh, but the rest of us don't. Fifteen. That's two boys for everyone, which is nowhere near enough.

Newt turns around. "Well, we knew this could happen. We have to fight them." If anyone buys his confidence, they're a shucking slinthead.

A loud screech rings out, rupturing my ears. I lift my hands to my ears instinctively. Leo moves up next to me, holding in her hands a long metal blade. I can tell she has no idea how to hold it. I tap her shoulder, and her head flies round. I rip the blade from her wrists, handing her off the baseball bat as quickly as my fingers will let me. She still barely grips the baseball bat, still unsure, but I toss the knife in my hand. I've got this.

The Grievers are rolling up the hallway, around us from all sides, until there are more than fifteen, and we are surrounded. This is one Glader per Griever. Leo is mashing the shucking out of the inside of her cheek, but I'm calm. We can do this. I'm more than confident. We've got this.

The pit in my stomach contradicts my mind.

"Alby?" Newt turns around, to face the boy.

He's running down the corridor. I push my way through the crowd, up to the front, but Minho grabs me by the shoulder. This was bound to happen. Alby's lost it. He's running straight for them. They will rip him apart.

"Alby!" Newt is screaming again.

A dozen Grievers are on him in a second. I turn away, knowing I don't want to see it. I don't even hear him scream, just the harsh crunch of metal on bone. One kid behind me starts choking, and when he turns around I see him throw up on another Glader's shoes.

Thomas has to physically restrain Newt as he tries to help the other boy. It's too late for Alby though. He'll be gone in a minute. I only turn around when Newt stills.

I can hear them eating. The ground is red where Alby once stood. I can even see it in the dark. They killed him, and not like, bashed his head in or stabbed him either. His corpse is gone. I don't feel nauseous though. I can handle it, and that scares me almost as much as what the Griever could to do us.

Minho leans in. "We've got to get a move on. Make a path for Teresa and Thomas." His voice is scratchy. He attempts to clear his throat, but there is nothing there.

"What is wrong with you?" Newt's voice is low as he mutters.

"We aren't putting on a shucking funeral right now." Minho voice is heavy. "We left all the black clothes in the Glade, and if you hadn't noticed, we are surrounded by Grievers."

Newt doesn't nod. He simply stands still. I can't say I blame him. Alby meant well; he just went about everything the wrong way. And now he's gone.

"We need to move," I agree, tightening my grip on the knife. I'm ready to go in. Any longer, and I'll give up.

Newt nods. "Let's move in. We need to..."

He cuts himself off, as the Grievers around him rev to life. It didn't work. The sacrifice didn't matter. Alby is dead, and we will be too.

"Now what?" I ask, leaning into Minho.

He turns around, calling out to the crowd. "Push through. We've got to get Teresa and Thomas in." He pauses, moving closer to the center of the aisle. "Ready?"

When I nod, he returns the gesture. "Now!"

And then we are running straight into the Grievers. I charge after Newt and Minho, following them into the crowd.

A Griever slides in front of them, leering down over me, and I duck underneath its hand as it claws me. Stabbing the knife forward, I attempt to rip through its gears. In fact, I barely dent them. I haven't come this close to one since I was last in the Maze. First day in is the same as the first day out, or something. Life is a circle.

It roars at me when I slice through it's mushy body, but it clamors forward. There is no use trying to kill it. Grievers are only worth distracting.

Thomas ducks past me along with Chuck and Teresa, and that's when I pull back from the Griever. They got through me, so I've done my job. Instead of fighting, I jog backwards. The Griever continues to charge at me.

I hit the Wall behind me, so I've got nowhere left to run. It's getting closer to my face, its arms scratch against the brick ground. It's going to tear through my body.

The Griever backs off me, turning its attention away and staring. Michelle has her spear tangled in its knee joints and hits its upper leg simultaneously. The Griever spins on its feet, and Michelle slides across the ground, underneath the monster, to land on the side she was attacking originally. When she gets up, she smashes the joint with her hammer, and it dislodges. The Griever moves, but slips on its joint, hitting the ground.

"Attack the joints," she tells me, pulling her spear out from it. She stabs the next leg, and does the same thing again.

She tosses me her hammer, gesturing for me to continue as she moves off weaponless. She picks a bat up off the ground a few feet away.

I grab the hammer off the ground, running to the next leg she has stabbed. I beat above the joint, just like she did. The Griever continues to wail and spin. It has like eight legs. I can't do this for all of its legs.

I whack it once more, and then with my foot, drive the spear deeper into the metal. One of the metal bands holding the limp together disconnects, and the leg snaps it half. The Griever can't straighten the leg past the joint anymore, though it tries.

It chases after me, dragging half its body behind me. It's much slower than before now.

Behind me, I hear a scream. I turn around to see one holding on to Jeff, the medic. He's nearly ten meters off the ground, and he is shouting, and trying to rip himself out of the Griever's grip. I sprint for Jeff, ducking through the crowd to the best of my ability. Clint is fighting the Griever at the legs, using his spear to stab the gears out of it. I use my knife to cut the same beam as before, and the Griever stumbles, whipping Jeff with its free hand.

The boy smashes against the Wall. His body tumbles, and for a second, there is no sound except for it hitting the ground. I can't see him where he lands, since there are other boys and monsters in the way. I'm not sure I would want to look anyway. The spot where he hit the wall runs red.

I move around the Griever. The battle on the other side breaks, moving deeper towards the Griever hole. I can see Jeff. Jeff lies on the ground, smashed in. Blood stains the rock floor beneath us, pooling out more and more. Soon, it's becoming an ocean we are forced to swim in.

He's dead.

I turn around, throwing up on to the grounf.

Clint is screaming and crying. "Jeff!"

I don't tell him to stop, mostly because my throat burns. He keeps shouting the boy's name, as if Clint expects Jeff to answer. Jeff's neck is almost turned around 180 degrees.

Clint starts stabbing at the Griever to the best of his abilities. Its fruitless though, and the Griever grabs him too, hoisting him above the ground.

I leap out, grabbing the Griever's leg. Even though it is already holding Clint up, it hoists me too. My feet dangle off the ground. Its limbs are slippery, and metal, but thankful it has no spikes along its joints releasing its liquid. Maybe it does, and I just haven't noticed yet. I hold myself still, trying to reach the metal piece that allows the bottom of the leg to move. It tries to shake me off, and I can hear myself screaming. Soaring through the air, trying not to slip. My weapon is long gone. All I can do is reach and pray I get it.

My hand finds something tubular, and I rip it out. The leg goes limp at the bottom, lowering Clint to the ground. It doesn't lower me though, so I try to hold on for dear life.


	49. I could be a fighter

Michelle 47

I can hear Dawn screaming, as the Griever holds her in the air.

I duck away, leaving Winston to himself. Ducking beneath bodies and the like, I arrive beneath her, her feet hanging over my head.

"Jump!" I call out to her.

She can't hear me since she is screaming so much. I grab her knife off the ground, stabbing one of the Griever's legs with it like I do the spear, trying to cut through the few small wires that hold it together. It slaps me with it's metal blade, sending me skidding across the floor. Thankfully it was my right side, which is already blind. My skin hurts though, the scab has no doubt been ripped open. My arm feels heavy, but it's only skinned. I pick myself up off the ground, wiping the blood off my temple. I feel a bit dizzy, but I charge forward anyway.

Leo is already at the Griever, charging it where its leg attaches to its body. She uses a scrap metal rod to stab it, shoving the metal in. She isn't strong enough.

I run forward, grabbing the rod from her and shoving it in.

"Bend it!" She screams over the sounds. "Forty-five degrees to the ground."

I listen to her, bending the tool in.

"Shove it when I tell you too." She tells me, backing up. She picks up her bat off the ground, whiping it at the Griever. It turns to look at her, reaching the leg we've attacked at her.

"Now!"

I shove the bar in deeper. It gets stuck between the gears, and they can't turn. The limb is stuck in the air upright, unable to move. The arm that holds Dawn dips to the ground, trying to counterbalance. She lets go, leaping through the air further away from the Creature. The arm she held smashes to the floor, causing shards of metal skid across the ground. The creature rolls to its side, stuck. It can't get up.

"Oh shuck," I mutter under my breath.

I hadn't even thought about the body joint as a vulnerable spot. I can't believe Leo picked it out.

Dawn rolls the bat across the ground back to Leo, picking up her own weapon. Her eyes trail across the ground while she wrings her hands together. It's a nervous tick.

Three legs and the Griever is out, and we've each figure out a different way to take down a leg.

"Tag team?" Leo asks.

"As long as its you getting tag teamed and not me." Dawn jokes, trying to make light of the situation.

I grab my spear from the Griever's gears, nodding in agreement. Before waiting for them, I move on to the next creature. I shove in the spear at its knee joint. It spins around to see me, but I manage to follow the leg. Beating in the spear until a couple of the metal pieces snap, and the bottom of the leg dangles off. Dawn is still using her knife to rip through the metal pieces, to find the one that snaps, but her and Leo seem to be doing well with her metal rod.

I turn around, moving to the next Griever. It has Billy in its claws. I move in, stabbing the gears that hold it with Billy. It drops Billy with that arm, picking him up with two others, and ripping his body in half. It whips the top against the ground, until his rips have collapse in on themselves, and his intestines spill on the ground. I back away. This one is intense. I don't even grab my spear, running for it.

My feet sprint further and further down the corridor, ducking through fights.

Doug stares at me, watching me charge towards him. I blow past the boy, who stands still on his feet. "Run."

He listens to me, chasing after me until he is close enough to grab my wrist. We can't go straight anymore, so he rounds a corner. I prey to God he doesn't forget how we came. He may be a Runner, but I am not. The Griever roars, rounding the corner and chasing after us. Two more are on its heels.

"Plan?" He manages to ask.

I shake my head, trying to sprint faster. My vision is tunneling. His legs are longer. If one of us drops, it'll be me. That means they'll rip me in half like Billy. I think I might throw up.

He pulls us around a sharp corner, that is essentially a u-turn. Doug tucks me in against him as he pulls himself flat against the Wall. The Grievers come forward, colliding with themselves as they hit the corner in a tangle of poles and limbs. Their metal bodies smashing and grinding against each other. Doug grabs me, pulling me down underneath them. Blades on their bodies stick out at me. I gulp but can't swallow. Doug crawls between their limbs, pulling me through.

He begins to lead us back to the fight. Even though I don't remember where we came from, mostly because all I could think about while we were running was the speed my heart was pumping, I could probably find the Griever-hole myself since I can hear the fight from here.

"Thanks," I manage as we head back. No part of me wants to turn around and run. I've come farther than I ever could've imagined. Here I am, with Doug, thanking him for saving my life. I know, it's almost embarrassing. I'm too busy to dwell on it though.

"You owe me two saved lives now." He tells me, departing once we are back in the epicenter of the fight.

I pick up one of the discarded Griever rods off the ground. My weapons are gone, and I've got not idea where to find them. Honestly, I've completely forgotten where I've dropped my bat, and there aren't any corpses to pick up one off the ground.

Honestly, I'm kind of thankful that there aren't any corpses.

Winston grabs hold of me, dragging me into a fight. I don't understand how it takes so long for Thomas to open a door. It's been Griever after Griever after Griever. More are coming still, and there are bodies falling down around me.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk earlier," he manages to muster out, as he stabs at a Griever with a pole. The hairy beast roars in anger.

"Go for the legs," I instruct.

I move to the knee, ripping off the piece Dawn had been grabbing, although the sharpness of my metal rips though my skin. Has she been bleeding this whole time? My hand is decently bloody.

The leg goes limp at the bottom, and I round to the leg that attacks Winston, shoving the piece of metal in the way Leo showed me. The Gears start to spin, and the leg locks up. I move on to the next leg, ripping the metal from it. My hand burns. I sure hope they vaccinated me, or else Leo will have my head in. I definitely have hepatitis, or some other disease.

"Duck!" Winston calls.

I do, as an arm goes soaring over my head. Man, I shucking hate being blind in one eye. It's grossly inconvenient. I also still don't know how shucked it looks. The skin looked raw until like, ten minutes ago when it got ripped open against the ground.

"Thanks!" I call out, before using Leo's trick on another limp. The Griever goes down.

"You can get them down?" He asks. "How are you doing that?"

"The legs." I answer, spinning around.

Nobody else is getting Grievers to go down, which is probably why we are unsuccessful. I've gotten maybe six down, but not on my own, and half of those were because of Doug. There's got to be thirty out there, and we've only been doing this for ten minutes. How long does it take to punch in a couple of sentences?

Unless, Thomas and Teresa still aren't down there. Or maybe, there were Grievers waiting for them in the pit. Maybe we've just got to take them all out.

I can do that, I just need help.

I leave Winston to scramble, searching for Dawn and Leo. I find them, and notice them struggling, weaponless.

Dawn and Leo are in front of me, tackling a new Griever. They are down to four legs now, but its still scuttling around after them. I move towards them, ducking through the crowd, and ignoring all the other boys who need help. Once I get to them, I pick up a lose piece of metal off the ground. I stab the rod through a leg that hasn't been ruined yet. I have no bat to beat it with though. The Griever screams, turning to stare at me.

I leap back a few feet, ducking in through the crowd. Leo hits the damn thing, and it spins towards them. I jog forward, and it turns again.

Leo rounds around the Griever, as does Dawn, to stand with me.

For shuck's sake, would this thing stop moving? I have a rod in it, I just need to snap the shucking thing. "Get to that leg." I point, before running to the other side.

Dawn arrives there next, with Leo shortly after. I look between them. Why hasn't the Griever turned to bother us yet?

"Who's distracting it?" I ask, looking at them.

Leo's face pales, as she turns to look over its body. "Ella."

Klunk. I grab the rod, twisting it carefully.

"We have to twist it off," I instruct, still trying to yell over all the noise. "Clockwise. You're with me?"

They nod together, grabbing hold of the rod.

"Now," I shout, twisting it. Leo and Dawn follow suit, ripping at the metal, and spinning it around in a semi circle.

The gears shriek against each other, and the limp falls down to the ground. The Griever falls in on itself too, collapsing.

It's body smashes off the concrete. The head breaks, cogs spilling against the ground.

Then the next body goes too, its limps sinking back into its rubbery skin. They all do after that, almost all at once, until every Griever is down, and the ones of us who are left stare at each other over the bodies on the ground.

It's a bloody mess. Bodies, most of which I don't know, but some of which I do. Billy, Jeff, one of the slinthead who attacked Doug and me.

I don't see Doug either, when I scan the faces of those standing. Until he turns around, and I feel relief flood through me that I don't recognize. He stands next to Winston, and I'm alright with the fact that Winston is alive. I'm close to disappointed, but don't really care enough about him as a person to actually want him dead.

Even though this is over, I have a bad feeling. I move over to a Griever, grabbing a hammer out of it's slimy stomach, before dropping it in my belt.

Dawn must've realised all her friends are still alive, because she is beaming when she slaps Leo on the back.

Leo looks around, staring out at the faces. "Where's Ella?"

I spin. She's gone. She was here, even if for a second.

"Ella?" She asks, stepping forward. She stumbles on the bent legs of the one who just defeated. "Ella!"


	50. I could be not doing this to myself

Ella 48

I can hear her calling me from further up, but I can't move. I can barely think. My arm is lit ablaze, electrocuting my body. It was a small leak, quick to ignite like gasoline sinking deeper into the soaking concrete. Something violent on harsh skin. I might pass out.

Then, she is gone. Another girl runs around and grabs me, shaking me up and down. I don't know if she knows I can see her. Her sight is a green blip in a grey storm.

I writhe on the ground in a circle, ripping at myself. People are shuffling around me, saying my name. Voices of various colours, bouncing in from every direction.

Then, there is no sound. My face shakes as I start screaming. The sound is silent as it grates against my neck. The soft flesh rips open, shredding down. I cough it up into the air. The grey is gone, replaced by an all-encompassing darkness. I hurt, everywhere. Not just where I let it sting me. The pain rips through me, up and down my body. I need someone to inject me.

I couldn't wait to find out though. I couldn't wait to see her again, even if it's just three days away. What if I didn't recognise her after all of this?

I need to drink. I'm sweating. I've never felt this physical before. My body is actually a part of me, and not just some vessel I'm walking through. Funny it takes this pain to see that.

My eyes burn. My lips have got so numb I briefly consider the idea that they could've fallen off. I experienced everything, and then nothing. My brain has turned off. I imagine this is what it feels like to be covered in bleach, and run over by a truck, and get dumped all at once.

Then I see him.

A man emerging from the fog.

My heart quickens. See, the incoming doom of watching him approach is worse than the pain I felt mere seconds ago. I know this greyness too well. A smoke man, coming to burn my body again. To have hands which snake up and down me, which tie me down, and rip the life out of my throat. To convince me I have a different name.

The figure breaks through the fog, and the clouds still. Smoke billows out and around a man, shrouded in obscurity, yet one I have come to know well. One whose hands have held mine as I've struggled to breathe.

He is not of smoke.

Instead, I find myself facing a boy.


	51. I could be leaving her body

Leo 49

I stab her in the leg with the grief serum, waiting for it to kick in, or for something to happen. I've never been this close to someone who has been stung. My hands are trembling, which is why I think I shoved it into her skin far too harshly. I'm lucky the needle didn't break.

"We've got to go Leo," Dawn whispers in my ear, helping to pull me off the ground.

I shake my head back and forth. She needs to come with us. She will die if she doesn't leave this place. "Someone needs to carry her. We can't just leave her. We can't just leave her."

"Leo," Dawn sighs, beginning to pull at me. I shake her hands off me.

Michelle rolls her eyes, moving over to pick up the body. Winston and Doug come over to help her, lifting Ella up and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. Her bones are hollow though; she can't weigh even 100lbs.

"Let's go then," Dawn grabs me, pulling me away. She lifts my backpack off the ground too, and then hands it to me. Shaking, I throw it over my shoulders, realising I'm the only girl who still has one. My body is rigid and robotic as I try to follow the rest of the Gladers. There are so many dead bodies on the ground around us. I don't watch. I look forward.

. I can hear Clint sobbing as Newt physically pulls him towards the Griever hole, essentially throwing the boy inside. Jeff is one of the bodies. There are so many littering the ground. I try not to look for his, but my eyes begin to scan the rock ground. We are surrounded.

Doug and Winston struggle with Ella. They resolve to have Michelle jump in first, and they toss the unconscious girl down to her, treating her body like a heavy sack. From here, you can only tell that she has made it through because she disappears into the sky.

I follow them down. My entire body shivers, as if I've opened the windows on a cool night. It blows through my hair, taking strands out of my loose bun. Plummeting through the hole, I land on my feet. Someone catches my fall. The room is damp, and dark, and I can't tell if its blood that slips beneath my feet or the juices of the Grievers.

"It's slippery," Michelle mutters, quickly letting go of me. As if I hadn't noticed.

Someone knocks into me, and I stumble forward. Together, we land in a pile on the ground.

"Shuck," Dawn mutters, putting her hands on the ground and lifting herself up. Now we are covered in this stick klunk. It stinks.

She offers me a hand, and I take it.

Dawn was the last to jump. This is all there is of us.

"Twenty-five," Minho notices, looking around at the crowd.

I can only hear them; it's difficult to see. I wonder if this is what Michelle feels like now, with one eye. Minho has had a few minutes to readjust, so he can count, but I see nothing but black. "Only one stung."

"Ten dead," Newt points out.

Ten. I must've known them. By now, I only don't know two or three names. We've been here for a month already. Ten are dead, and I am bound to have talked to most of them, at least casually. I don't want to know who they are yet. For now, I want to keep moving forward. If I find out their names, I turn into Clint, who still sniffles.

"Tunnel's up here," Thomas points out, pulling himself forward.

A few Gladers click on flashlights, but I don't have any. Jeff had mine in his backpack, so I could carry the medical supplies. His backpack was long gone though, away from his body. I don't want to know what happened to it.

The boys pass through the tunnel, and eventually Dawn and I find ourselves at the back of the pack. Newt moves up next to us, with Thomas and Teresa only a few steps behind.

I expect him to say something, but he doesn't. He doesn't look particularly good either. Like the rest of us, blood coats his ripped shirt. He's soaked I blood and in exhaustion. The tips of his fingers, coarse and damp, brush across my wrist.

Someone screams up ahead, and I flinch. Another voice follows after, the two of them trailing farther and farther. It hasn't been this dark since I got here. The sounds were just as vibrant then, just as jarring. No mechanical whirr, but all the nightmares of being trapped in a small and confined space.

"There's a slide," Dawn whispers to us. When Newt finds out, he turns around to tell Chuck. "People are slipping down."

In just a few paces, its Dawn's turn. She throws herself down, her shriek reminding me of the ascent down a ride at an amusement park. I am not so quick to excite. I lean down, placing my feet on the edge of the cold metal slide before Newt gives me a slight nudge from the back.

I slip down, holding my breath until the dark spots in the room begin to feel like they are from a deprivation of oxygen and not from a lack of light. It stops the screams from tearing apart my throat as they scramble to get out. I mean, the slide makes me feel a bit nauseous from its rough spirals, but the pain comes from the sight of Jeff's body.

We just left him there to rot. I hate that we can just do that for our own sakes.

I fall on the ground, landing on top of people. I don't have the time to roll out of the way before everyone else comes tumbling out of the shoot. I feel like I've been crushed, but manage roll off the pile. I shield my eyes from the bright light, trying to get them to adjust. I can't see anything. Newt takes my hand, helping me up off the ground.

We stand together in a grey room, with computer wires covering the walls. It is essentially pristine, or, it was until our sludgy bodies filled the space. There is barely any lighting, so I can't see much past the walls, except for these long coffin-esque metal boxes on the wall.

"Oh shuck!" Dawn taps me on the shoulder, pointing forward.

There are thick, dark windows in front of us, but behind them are faces. Long, old faces, lined and tired. The Creators stare back at us, in their long black coats. Their eyes are wide. I can't tear my eyes away from them. After all this time, they've been down here?

"Quit gawking!" Minho shouts. When he steps forward Dawn grabs his arm to hold him back "or I'll break your shuck noses!"

"What are they doing?" Thomas is asking, stepping forward to analyse their faces.

"Probably getting ready to send out more Grievers," Newt pulls away, turning to Thomas. I realise I'm still holding his hand. I quickly pull it away, tucking it behind my back.

A woman walks in, accompanied by a man with a hoodie hung over his face. Her faces in hollow and sinks in on itself like waves in an ocean. Her eyes cause me to drown, but not in the sense that they are blue and all encompassing. They rip my soul out of my body and pin it to the ground.

I know her. We've met before. She makes eye contact with me, her smile growing, before she shifts back at the group.

"I'm glad to see so many of you made it," she continues her attempt at grinning, but the attempt barely reaches her lips, let alone her eyes. "We were not expecting so many to live."

So many are dead. Jeff died. Zart, and Dave, and Gally, and Ben, and Alby, and innocent boys and malevolent boys and happy boys and lonely boys. Children were murdered by each other, and by these people. I was not expecting such cruelty. We were not expecting to be numbers.

"What did you shucking say?" Newt's voice explodes out his body, and I am forced to grab his wrist to keep him in place. His muscles are tense, and his fist shakes. Even though he doesn't take another step forward, he still hasn't moved back. Consequently, I'm not sure when to let go.

"Please, calm down Mr. Newton," she says it casually, as if she has said this hundreds of times before. If she has, she's made us forget it.

My eyes flick to him, and then his flicker back to me.

I hear a gasp ring out from behind me. Michelle was hanging out closer to the back of the crowd, hiding behind me and Dawn. I catch her eyes, spinning around to see the boy, hoodless. He's Gally. I almost stumble backward. He looks as bad as Ben during the Changing. His skin hangs on his frame, pale, and he shakes back and forth on his feet. Wet eyes tether him to the space though, for they are as dark as night. Like blackholes sucking in the universe.

"What have you done?" Michelle bursts past me, and it takes both Dawn and I grabbing her arms and waist from behind to pull her back. She struggles against us, clawing my skin. Regardless, I don't let go. "I'll kill you!"

"Miss. Michelangelo behave yourself or you will face consequences," the woman glares at Michelle. "You should be grateful for all we've done for you."

She pauses, looking over at Gally. How can she not see what she's done to him? "Now, for one final variable."

Gally begins shaking, but this time intentionally. He stares at Michelle, tears in his eyes, only darting over once to Thomas. "I don't want to... They're making..."

His hand shoots forward, holding a dagger. He whips it out from behind him and throws it through the air. I shut my eyes, unwilling to look. He threw it to the other side of us. It's away from Michelle, but it was too close to Newt. I can't bear to see it.

A body thumps to the ground, hard. I hear the impact last for what feels like a minute. Time slows as I clench my eyes together. Thomas is shouting, a low sound from his throat that gets louder every second. Time rushes back to me, almost knocking me over as I try to catch my breath. Dawn moves past me, around to the body on the ground, and I turn to see it.

Chuck is on the floor, and Thomas on top of him. Thomas shakes as he stares at the blood. Chuck is losing it too fast. I can't save him. It's not even worth the supplies to try and cover up the blood that is pooling out. Chuck is crying, sobbing.

Shuck it, I can't stand and do nothing. I rip my backpack off me, digging through it for supplies. He's coughing up blood though now, and I feel Minho's hand on my shoulder. When I look up at him, he shakes his head. His eyes are lowered. Holding out a hand, he waits for me to hand him the backpack, making the hard decision for me.

I have to watch Chuck die. Slowly, I zip up the backpack, and place it in Minho's hands. He remains quiet, looking at Chuck instead of at me. Dawn looks away, curling up into Minho. Still, he stands, eyes forward. Watching.

I look over at the woman and Gally, who are both watching too. Gally's feet keep shifting on the spot.

"Thomas," Chuck begins, his voice shaking. I look back to the boy. His ginger hair is brighter than the blood that pour out of him. I need to remember that.

Thomas doesn't say anything, clutching Chuck's hand tightly. Chuck doesn't hold him back, his hand going limp.

He's going to lose it.

"You need to find my mom."

Chuck's chest stills. It holds itself in place, refusing to move any longer. I search for Newt, because I want to hold him. He's across the crowd though, to far for me to grab.

Thomas stands up slowly, his clothing soaked with blood, though I doubt he notices. Rage fills his eyes and he charges for Gally. No one moves to grab him, letting him charge forward. Thomas gets his hands around the boy's neck, sending him flying to the ground, before Michelle is on Thomas, hitting him too. Minho and Newt rip them apart, with Winston and Doug stepping in to hold Michelle as she screams.

"What have you done?" She demands, her voice hoarse from screaming. Instead of looking at Thomas, she stares at the woman. "What did you do to him? What did you break? I'll break it back. I'll do it to you."

Thomas runs back to Chuck's body, crying over top of it. Thomas holds the boy's face delicately. Teresa tries to comfort Thomas, but he shrugs her away. Michelle doesn't stop throwing herself about, but I don't have it in me to sedate her. Not only would it be dangerous, but she's justified to be angry. I can feel the feeling burning in my chest.

Thomas can blame Gally all he wants, but I remember this woman's gait. She did this.

"You must understand," she begins, sighing.

People shoot through the door, shouting. They cut the woman off, as she turns to stare at them. A bullet blows through the woman's chest, and another. Mid-sentence, her body collapses. No finality, or last words. She is alive, and then she is dead.

Then we are surrounded by these strangers.

"We don't have time," I recognize the man who is speaking as the one who shot her. "We need to move."

Everyone is running around me, for the doors and out. I stay stagnant for a second, staring at the chaos around me. I am the only one left here.

Besides Ella. No one has grabbed her in the chaos. I attempt to lift her body. One of the rescuers grabs me and shakes his head. "Run."

I ignore him, lifting her off the ground. He rolls his eyes, but chooses to help me, grabbing her other arm as the rest of them move out. Together, we carry her sweating body out the doors.

I will be damned if I have no control. They may kill us, maim us, and separate us, but they can't take away who we are. I will shucking carry Ella out of the building by myself, even if I am captured and killed because of it.

We run down a hallway and a dimly lit tunnel. We reach a flight of stairs, and then he mutters to himself, dropping her. He leaves us alone in the hallway. Her weight falls into me, and I stumble to the ground. Her body is too heavy. I can't move her.

Yet, I will not abandon her.

My muscles scream as I pick her up. Resting her back against the wall, I lift her up over my shoulder, and onto me piggy-back style. My leg burns as I pull myself up the step, but I take the next and the next, running. I can't breathe, and my vision is tunnelling, but I make it to the top.

There is another hallway after that, and I see no one else waiting. For all I know, the Gladers might have already left me behind, but I run all the same. Past computers, and down more hallways, and up more stairs. I make it out a set of glass doors, pushing on them will all my strength.

I stumble and collapse onto the ground. The sidewalk is wet, and as the rain hits my skin, blood washes off onto the ground.


	52. I could be loving

Dawn 50

"Try to drag me on, you shucking creep, I'll rip your eyes out of your head," I pull my arms from the arms who grip them. "I'm not going without Leo. We need to go back for her."

The man behind me turns me around and grabs my shoulders with tight fists. He leans down so that we are eye to eye. "She got shot. We had to leave her."

She can't be dead. She can't be, I feel my feet stumble out from beneath me, slipping in the puddle on the ground. Minho grapples the man, tackling him. With heavy arms he shoves the man onto the ground. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, huffing.

"I didn't need your help," I tell him, maybe trying to convince myself.

Minho nods, "I know, but I couldn't stay back without Leo. Or you. It's why I helped."

Yeah, I guess that's fair. The man begins to get up, and then Minho kicks him back down. He puts a foot down on the man's back, preventing him from standing up.

The other man tries to decide if he is going to come over to help, or if he needs to keep a grip on Thomas and Newt instead. Those two are putting up a fight as the other man tries to usher them on to the bus.

I move the soaking strands of hair out of my face, looking at Minho. He stares off in the distance, trying to see something with his deep brown eyes. His lips are parted slightly, and I can't help but imagine what they feel like against mine.

"Klunk," Minho whispers, getting off the man next to me.

There is a woman running, maybe 25 metres away.

The man slowly peels himself off the ground, the other guard abandoning Thomas and rushing over to help him.

"You'll save us all," a woman charges towards us, shouting. Her body is riddled with open wounds and sores, and her clothes are ripped. "You're gonna save us from the Flare."

She tackles Thomas to the ground, leering over his face. Newt recoils instinctively. Minho grabs me, pulling me back from the two wriggling on the ground. This is the first he has held me since I tried to leave him. Everything feels so natural again.

The guard grabs the woman, ripping her away.

"I said, get on the bus!" He yells to us, turning his attention to the woman.

I can't leave without Leo. I look back at the door, praying she has made it.

Leo is there. She's lying on the ground, face first, with Ella on her back.

Newt notices at the same time. He beats the guard off him, moving over to her. Moving slowly, he hovers over her body. I wait to hear him start crying, because then I'll know what I suspect is true. Neither of them are moving.

"She's alive," he calls over.

I dart out of Minho's hands, moving to their bodies. I grab Ella, trying to lift her weight off Leo. She is surprisingly light, and I easily pick her up and bring her inside the bus. I drop her in any empty seat at the front. Out of the tinted window, I can see that Newt has Leo. He carries her inside the bus, while I stand and wait for him. As soon as he is on, the bus lurches forward. I help hold the two up, moving them over to a seat closer to the front. Minho is already inside, a few rows back.

Clint is in the seat behind Ella, who doesn't seem to notice I've dropped her in his care. My muscles ache from Ella's weight. Slowly, I make my way over to Minho. He almost seems surprised when I sit down next to him. As if we still aren't okay. I guess, after those few days I thought we might not be.

It's neither of our faults though. He was tired, and I was upset, and the world was crashing down around us.

"I appreciate that you didn't drag me onto the bus," I whisper, leaning closer to him. I'm about to shiver. This bus is extremely air conditioned and I'm soaking wet.

He shrugs, "I figured it would only make you want to stay out there more."

At least he is right about that. I don't think I would've listened.

"I'm sorry about all the klunk in the Glade." I really am, since even these few minutes have made things clearer. He and I are a team. "It wasn't you. I was just upset. It's been a hard few weeks."

He nods, leaning his head against the window. "I thought it might've been about the Ben thing, at least a bit. It's why I don't blame you."

At least part of it was. He made me feel breakable. I still don't like that. It isn't as easy as batting your eyes to make that pain go away. It lingers. The pregnancy doesn't really help either, nor does the dying friends and impending doom. All that happened between Minho and I was a side effect of the suffering that was around us. I'm going to tell him about the pregnancy.

About the baby.

"Minho," I begin, as the bus lurches forward. My hands tighten on the seat, and I hear the breath escape Minho's throat too. I'm up on my feet in a second, moving towards the aisle.

"What was that?" I demand, looking around. "Did we just run something over?"

"We just hit a woman," Thomas and Teresa sit two rows behind us, making me turn my head to see him speak. His face has gone pale at the realisation. "The lady who attacked us."

I turn my attention back up to the bus driver. What the shuck is going on? Is it really that bad out here? Was Alby right?

"Dee, sit down," Minho offers.

I stand for a second, tightening my fist, before finally listening. There isn't much else we can do, at least not right now. No one seems to be answering my questions, and I'm surprised I have any anyway.

"What's our next move?" I lean into him, asking him quietly.

He shrugs, unmoving. There is an air between us that makes my stomach churn. Though it was my fault, I hate this. He doesn't know where to put his hands. I don't know either.

The farther we drive from the building, the more I see the impact of my actions. The more wear I see on his skin.

I turn around to look at Thomas. He seems to know more about the outside world than anyone else here. "Do you trust these people?"

Thomas seems caught off guard. He glances over at Teresa, and then in turn at the woman a seat over. She has a gun slung over her shoulder, a hand resting on it delicately. Thomas stares for a second before adverting his eyes back down.

I guess we don't have any option not to trust them. I wish I had any of the weapons on me I started out with, but they've been left and forgotten already. Minho wraps a hand around my waist, pulling me against him while he leans out the window. I can't relax with him though. No matter what, I can't seem to slow my breathing. The world we live in isn't one that I trust.

The bus jerks from side to side as we move around. Rain cascades down the window and beats against the tin roof so hard that I imagine it might fold in on itself. Lights run by out of the windows, coming from building windows and streetlights. It's getting darker, either from the storm clouds or the time of day. I can't read the names on any of the buildings. I don't even know what country we are in.

After a while, Minho doses off. His breathing slows, and his head tilts into me. My clothes are soaking, but the chill doesn't wake him. He continues to sleep for hours, or what feels like hours. My leg jitters. I'm wide awake.

I don't like this. I have an incredibly bad feeling about all of this.

"There were sun flares," I hear the woman behind me whispering. She's part of the organization. I don't move to hear her better, in case she doesn't want me listening. "Sun flares are normal, but these burnt out our satellites, killed millions of people. Forests turned to wastelands. Then the illness spread.

"It started in South America but came up here. We're far north, but it made it up here in days. They call it the Flare."

Leo, Dawn, Michelle, and Ella. I don't know why those names pop into my head, but they do. The Flare. The Flare. The Flare. That's familiar. Too familiar.

"There might be a cure in the Andes, if the rumours are more than rumours, but that lies past the Scorch."

The Scorch. The scorched earth, ruined from the Flares, filled with people with the Flare. Leo, Dawn, Michelle, and Ella.

"The Flare affects the brain," she continues. "It's better to die than catch the disease. WICKED is looking for a cure through you all. We've dedicated ourselves to fighting them, since they're experiments are barbaric, as I'm sure you know."

I'm not sure why I suddenly think of those girls, but I do. The woman doesn't continue. After ten minutes of silence, when I'm sure enough time has elapsed. I lean into the aisle. Looking up, I see the back of Newt's head peaking over a seat. Slowly, I get up and walk through the aisle. My hands hold firmly against the seats, as the buns rounds a corner rapidly. I reach Newt and sit in the seat across the aisle. Fry lies fast asleep beside me, snoring loudly.

"She awake yet?" I gesture to Leo, who's head lies on his shoulder, and who's legs are curled up in a ball.

He shrugs, unsure how to answer. The arm that Leo rests on remains still, but the other curls around her legs, holding her up. "She woke up for a minute, but I told her to go back to sleep. She's got a killer headache."

I peer a few seats up, and spot Ella's hand, leaning off the seat. I can't tell if its shaking from the bus's movement, or if it's the Changing.

I nod up to Ella, "I take it she's still out."

Newt nods, looking down at Leo. Her skin still looks sickly but being out here has made her healthier. I guess even a few seconds of the sun peeking through clouds will offer that to us. Not as many as we need, but a couple is enough.

"You haven't told her yet?" I ask, biting my lip. Though Leo sleeps peacefully against Newt, I doubt he told her he loves her. "Now is a better time than ever to confess."

"I'll tell her tomorrow," he tells me. "When I'm sure we are safe."

We'll be safe tomorrow. It's a weird thought to think after all that happened in the Glade. Everything is over. No more Maze, no more trials, no more stolen boys. This is the end.

"Have you apologised to Minho?" He asks me, looking back down the aisle.

I shrug, since it's more complicated than just apologising.

"You know it was hard for him to run in the Maze," Newt offers a defense. "He wanted to stay back with you, or get you to come with him, but Alby told him you weren't allowed." His breath hitches at the mention of Alby's name, but he chooses to continue. Tears brim in Newt's eyes. "You weren't trained after all, and we needed Minho out there."

"It's not just that." I close my eyes, taking in a breath of freezing air. The chill was initially kind of nice, but now my clothes cling to my skin and refuse to dry. I bet they are going to freeze.

Newt nods, understanding. At least he isn't yelling at me. "You haven't told him?"

That I'm pregnant? Obviously not. That would be an awful idea.

When I shake my head, Newt continues. "Tell him in the morning. It'll explain a lot, but wait until we are fed and not shucking exhausted."

I guess I can agree with that. I'd rather not have Minho explode on the bus. We fought because we were worried, and I guess tomorrow the worrying will be over. Besides this baby, anyway.

I don't have much left to say, so I lean back against the seat behind me. The longer we drive, the dimmer the light gets outside. I don't even know if we were matched up with the outdoors in the Glade time wise. Outside the window, I can see the setting sun. It fills the sky, with its glow. Shades of blue, yellow, and red erupt from within it. I've never seen an explosion before, let alone one so beautiful.

Maybe tonight, I will finally get to see real stars. The world is out there, and I want it. I want to be done with this illness, or WICKED or whatever, and touch the sea. I want to swim in the ocean, and laugh, and just live. I want Minho and I to be happy, and I want us to live out of suitcases, and travel the world. I don't want this silly fate tied to me. I just want to be.

"What are you most looking forward to, with this over?" I ask, looking back at Newt.

He stirs, seemingly half asleep. "Honestly?"

I nod, staring him down. He pauses for a second to think.

"I want to listen to music," he answers, smiling. "Like, a guitar or something. Or like, a big band. I don't know. I don't remember music."

I smile, satisfied with the answer. I forget what sounds like that are supposed to be played in symphony.

"I'm going to go wake up Minho," I tell him, heading backwards on the bus.

In a few steps, I sit down next to Minho. He still sleeps, leaning against the window. For the first time recently, he looks at peace. I don't really want to wake him up. I don't want to be the one who rips paradise out from beneath him.

"Minho," I lean over, whispering.

He sniffs in, waking slowly. Yawning, he stretches his arms. It's a minute before his eyes open. "Are we there?"

I shake my head. I don't know where we are going, but its been probably three hours we've been driving, I'd guess. The sun is buried in the sky. I wish I had waken him up to see it.

"I'm going to tell you tomorrow," I tell him. "The thing that upset me. When I am absolutely sure we are safe, okay?"

He nods, grabbing my hand. It's warm in his, and I can't help the blush that fills my cheeks still. His eyes are still sleepy, so part of me thinks he probably can't hear a word I'm saying. "Sure Dee, that works."

I nod back, just letting myself rest against him. Its easy to feel him and to hold him again. All of it feels natural; as if I've done it for years instead of a month.

"I think we are safe," I tell him, even though there is a thought nicking at the back of my throat. "They are trying to get us to a cure."

"A cure for what?" Minho asks, still groggy.

"Whatever the woman who attacked us had," I tell him. "Whatever that thing was, its contagious. We've been exposed."

The Flare. That's what its called.

He puts a hand on my waist, leaning into me. His nose buries in my wet braid, and I can't help but smirk.

"I smell like a wet dog," I whisper.

"I don't care," he shakes his head. "I'm used to it."

I roll my eyes but can't stop the smile that spreads across my face.

I needed him. I needed him so much, that I forgot what wanting meant. At times it felt impossible to leave. His warmth fills me, even though we are both cold. I hear his heart-beating louder than the rain as it hits against the roof.

"I love you," I tell him, as it has certainly been far too long since I've last said it. I really mean it. For a second, the world takes a pause to listen to us. As if the rain is suddenly suspended in midair, waiting for his reply just like me. Praying everything will work out for us in the end.

"I love you too," he agrees, and the world spins quickly back into motion.


	53. I could be rain

Michelle 51

The bus roars in, stopping at a halt. The doors screech open and I can hear the rain smashing into the ground below, soaking through. It puddles, even on dirt. Overflowing. I don't move in my seat for a second. I close my eyes, leaning against the cool seat. It's made out a material I don't recognize, that is a sort of rubber and a sort of fake leather. This whole ride I've been unable to find the ground beneath me, slipping on this weird material.

People are getting off around me, chattering, but I can only hear the patter of the rain on the pavement. I don't know where we are going.

"Get up," Teresa kicks my shoe, jolting me out of my daze.

I look over to see her. She eyes me precariously, waiting for my next move. We are the only two left on the bus.

"What's it to you?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest.

She rolls her eyes, before moving forward. Her sneakers squeak as she steps off the bus.

I roll my eyes back at her, getting up and following the crowd. The rain immediately soaks my clothes, which were mostly dry. It runs into my clothing, turning the fabric into a paste that hangs on my body. The rest of the group stands outside, waiting. Perhaps for me, or perhaps they are just letting themselves freeze. I don't know the last time I felt rain on my skin. I don't know the last time I felt this cold.

It's kind of nice.

Gally is alive. He's able to feel again, but he's not here. I should've dragged him behind me. How could I lose him again, and so easily? Why would I let someone else slip through my fingers?

It won't happen again.

I shove past Thomas to the front of the group as we walk towards the building ahead of us. He stumbles as I hit him, and I don't bother to look and see if he hits the ground. If he does, I'd be sure to find out later. Everything is interdependent.

Clint struggles to carry Ella, falling further and further behind. I don't help him, even though I want to. My body has forgotten how to move, and my fingers are numb from the cold.

Then, the rain stops beating against my skull as I enter the building. We wind up the stairs and enter a room. A figure in front of me, smiling, tries to talk to me. Though her face is kind, we couldn't possibly have anything in common. I barrel past her, stalking off into the facility.

We enter a common room, with a couch, or something, and frilly shucking curtains on the windows. Sure, just paint over the klunk that hides outside and we'll forget about it. Honestly, I can tell I'm already going to hate these shanks already.

I stand in the main room, waiting. One of the workers brings in pizza boxes, setting them down on the table in the center. He brings in cups too, and boys start to move and grab pizza. I don't know how they can bring themselves to eat.

So, I stand back, and wait, watching them gorge their mouths out, and wondering what Dave would think if he was here. If he would like real cheese, or maybe he was lactose intolerant. Maybe Gally would stand with me and complain.

Then, dinner is over.

"Boys in this room," a woman calls, ushering us up the stairs. "Girls in the next."

Teresa seems to move without asking, as she is pulled away from the group. I watch Dawn's face drop though.

"We can't just leave them," she speaks, looking at the woman.

"It's just for the night," she answers, waiting at the door for us to move.

I follow, because I haven't got anything to do accept listen. On my way, someone grabs my wrist. I spin around to see Doug, waiting for me.

"We'll find him," he tells me, as if he hadn't given up on Gally long before he was murdered.

I tug out of Doug's grip, heading into the corridor. If he wanted to talk to me, he could've during dinner. He didn't though. Teresa leads me to our door, and we walk in.

There is a room, with yellow walls, and bunkbeds and dressers. How revolting. What illusion is this? Before us, they've presented happiness. Bodies drag up behind me, opening to the space. Dawn knocks me on the shoulder, and I turn to see her. She grins at me, as if we haven't just lost everything we've ever known. As if Dave wouldn't have wanted the warm bed.

They all claim a bunk, and I am left with the only bed that doesn't have another person to use it. So, I lie down on the bottom, staring at the roof above me, wondering what is to come next. There are clothes at the foot of my bed that I don't bother changing into, and there are toiletries, so if I wanted to I could wash my filthy teeth. Instead, I let them rot inside my mouth, since nothing is here to stop me.

I expected the girls to fall asleep quickly, but we can't. Ella groans, rolling in her bed. She was the only one who was stung. Since no one else was, I imagined she reached in one of those things and made it sting her. She's gone crazier than I am, and I don't know why. It baffles me all the time.

It gets so bad, Teresa leaves the bunk above Ella climbs up over my head. So much for sleeping alone.

"You think she'll wake up tomorrow?" Dawn asks, a bit hopeful.

"Can't you just sedate her?" I ask, getting out of my bed and turning to face them.

Leo looks at me, from the bunk across from me. She leans over the edge, looking up at Dawn. "It's the Changing. You just have to let it happen. If I sedate her she'll be like this for the rest of the week."

I'll never sleep again. Although, I wasn't sure I wanted to. I don't like it here.

"Why are we even here?" Leo asks, looking around.

Dawn looks down. "There's a disease. It's called the Flare."

Leo, Dawn, Michelle, and Ella. Those words appear in my head in that order, and it feels weird. I don't know why.

Leo looks over at me, and I wonder if she thought it too. Maybe she, like me, thinks like this. Her name first in a list, with mine too far behind. As if its predetermined. One of the only things we remember from before this place.

Ella starts screaming, and Leo races out of the bed. She moves over next to her, to try and calm the girl down. Dawn climbs down the ladder too, but she just stands by, and watches. As if by standing there she'll stop screaming.

"Someone will come by," Leo looks at the girl, and she rolls on the bed. She has already sweat through the sheets. Her new clothes are on the edge of the bed.

Leo takes scissors out of her backpack and cuts open the girl's shirt. She takes it, and rips it off her, to help let her skin get some air. It doesn't help. This room is far too claustrophobic for her to breathe properly.

"Leo," Teresa calls out from the bunk above us.

Leo doesn't look away from Teresa as she holds down Ella. "What? Why?"

"Put those medical supplies in your belt," Teresa instructs. "I can't explain why, just shove them all in."

Leo looks down at her bag, before up at Teresa. "It's full."

Teresa hops down from the bunk. She moves over, to help hold Ella down. She gestures for Leo to let go and continues to hold on to the girl. "Put all the bandages you have in your belt. And the scissors."

Leo nods, taking as much as she can and shoving it in her belt. She doesn't have enough room for it all, so she shoves some in her pockets. I get up off the bed, taking some of it and putting it in my belt as well, since mine is also meant for carrying supplies. Besides, I only have the hammer in mine. At the end, there is only a variety of different medications in the bag. I don't know what they are. Leo takes out two vials of sedative and puts them in her belt.

"Why?" Dawn asks, turning to Teresa. "Why not the bag?"

"I have a feeling they are taking everything we aren't wearing in the morning," Teresa notes. "Why else would we have new clothes?"

"Because ours were torn to shreds," Dawn argues. "By the Grievers, if you remember."

"Worse comes to worse we move the supplies back into the backpack in the morning." I interject, and everyone looks at me. All with surprise, maybe because I picked a side, but more likely because it was Teresa's I picked. I don't know what they want from me, especially since she's in the right.

Dawn nods, before getting up. She sulks back to her bed, and I roll my eyes. Teresa doesn't move, keeping her hands on Ella. Eventually, Leo leans back, and sits up on her bed.

"Don't trust those guys," Teresa tells them. "The last thing I wrote on my arm before I lost all my memories, was that WICKED is good. I don't know why I would've done that if I didn't believe it."

Believing isn't enough, but I nod to Teresa. She knows more than we do.

"I don't trust an organisation that lets children shucking die," Dawn argues, glaring down.

"Even if the alternative is we all die?" Teresa demands. "Would you die for mankind?"

Dawn rolls on her back, slamming herself against the pillow. It doesn't drown out Ella's wails. Nothing will. So, we sit in silence, or at least, what we pretend is silence.

"Can't you shut her up?" I ask. I'm very tired.

Leo shakes her head, and I roll back into mine. Maybe, despite all this shrieking, I can try to find sleep.


	54. I could be someone else

Ella 52

Eli. Eli, Eli, Eli. The word is the same as another word. Emily.

 _"Emmy," she's behind me. She has long blonde hair, and soft eyes, and a smile that reaches my centre._ I can see her face again.

It's ripping me apart. I can only scream, but my vision is filled with purple. I wonder if they have left me for dead. It's worth it, to die, if it means I can know the truth. If I can see her, that is all I want.

_"What's the plan?" The one girl asks, from across the table. "The plan Em, what's the plan?"_

_I have to ask Eli, he is the one who suggested it to me. I get the feeling he just didn't want to go up._

There were four more. Four who live somewhere else.

_"I'll ask Eli," I offer._

_The second girl rolls her eyes, before chiming it. "It's always Eli this, Eli that. You think he knows more than I do?_ "

Eli. I remember Eli. I don't want to, because the thought makes my back shake and crumble. Eli was once with me. We once stood in the same room.

 _"Good luck with him," I whisper, pulling Eli aside._ It's the last time I will see Thomas and Eli, for a very long time. I remember knowing this.

_"I think they might send us up tomorrow," Eli's voice is in a low whisper, and it cracks._

_"Either way, I'll see you on the other side_."

My skin is cold, but also on fire, and I don't know if anyone is helping me. Eli was me. I was Emily. Leo, Don, Michael, and Eli. They were us. Those were not our names.

" _Get in!" My head hurts. I fell on the ground before we got here, knocked myself out, but the third voice doesn't know how to use the gun, and as I shuffle in and out of consciousness, I've got to stab her with the needle._

_I search the drawers, looking for ours, but I can't find them. They must be in the other room. A series of subject numbers. I forget our names._

_Subject A57, Subject A58, Subject A59._

_I am Subject A60. I am the final one._

_Loaded gun, back of the neck, shoot into the first voice, then the second, then the third. We will take on their identities. Their faces, their minds. Their names. I am Subject A60._

_The gun is on the back of my neck, and I can hear the door jingle. My hand slips, and it pierces my neck as an angle. I remain conscious, enough to reach to the panel and slam my hand down on the button, the gears click into place as I slide into the black room, and we fly up._

My ears riot, splitting open. So, does my head though. Everything I see is blood.

_"We're going to have fun," I recognize his smoked face as he speaks. He isn't nodding at me alone. He turns his attention to the bed next to us. "You are going to be the triggers, by the end of this. Don't we agree?"_

_I can't kick him because my feet are tied up. I will never be that girl. Subject A1 is not my name. I will be lost in a sea of Subject Bs before I take that place. You could refuse to cure me of the disease. I would die a Crank._

_"Emily," I turn my head to the side. The other person in the room is staring at me, with soft eyes. He shakes his head back and forth, as if I am the one who is causing an affront upon nature. As if we aren't tied to beds right now._

_"My name is not Emily," I tell him. "And yours is not Eli."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this book? I'll see you next in Sojourner!


End file.
